Waltzing Through Time
by HollyGlow
Summary: Mix of AU/ACD/BBC Canon: Sherlock Holmes has been a vampire for over seven hundred years and during that time the only constant in his life has been John Watson. Vamp!Lock, Vamp!Sherlock, Vamp!Mycroft, eventual Vamp!John, JohnLock, MyJohnLock, JohnCroft. Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Major Char death/rebirth M-MA
1. Beginnings

- Hello again lovelies: Some notes:

Most of the first few chapters are all build up to the main story. They explore John's original rebirth as a vampire, several periods of separation, and John's death to stop Moriarty from hurting Sherlock in the 1800s. The main story will begin following the BBC Reichenbach Fall. The dates used will be lose and non-specific.

Some important notes for you here:

1) This story is a mix of ACD and BBC Canon along with AU components  
2) Vampire notes:

*Can walk in sunlight but are weaker than mortals when exposed to it directly  
*Silver can harm them due to a chemical reaction with their blood  
*Possess magic  
*Can be killed in the same ways as mortals if they lose too much blood and are exposed to sunlight  
*Can father offspring with mortal women  
*Creating a new vampire requires a lot of work and permanently transforms the soul of the person turned  
*Can be reborn as mortals with hints of memories/blood hunger called Reincarnates  
*Based off a personal fiction of my own that I have yet to finish  
*Have soulmates that can be found by the blood thread, a specific connection that is felt most deeply by Vampires.

This story features smut, a lot of it and shamelessly. It was originally going to be pure JohnLock but it is shaping up to be so much more and even I am not sure where John's heart will be at the end. It features JohnLock, JohnCroft, MyJohnLock (John focused, not Holmescest), and will have a lot of smut, feels, angst, and hurt/comfort. Please note the vampire back story is MY OWN. From a fiction I am writing.

As always comments/feedback appreciated!-

Tudor England was a sight to see. A society of excess if you were in the right crowds and of deep, crushing misery if you weren't. It was your typical elegant social outing which meant that Sherlock Holmes was bored to tears. His elder brother Mycroft forced him to come along with him, for what purpose he knew not. He was considering the various ways to abandon the entire evening and pursue his own purposes when his eyes fell on a young man that made the blood pound in his ears. John Hamish Watson, the young cousin of the Duke holding this miserable gathering was cautiously avoiding conversation with any of those in attendance. The dark blue outfit he was wearing made him look moderately handsome but he was not interested in attracting anyone. He simply wanted to make sure he didn't embarrass himself. His family lived on a small farm outside of the main portion of the city and he was not used to large gatherings like this. He was awkward and certainly not as elegant and refined as those around him, so he did his best to blend in. As he moved to a balcony to take in some fresh air he was surprised when he felt a prickle on his neck and turned to find a tall, dark haired man with quicksilver eyes walking towards him. He knew the man was the younger son of the Duke's favorite advisor, to be honest he knew many things about the man though he doubted the man repaid the favor. The two had crossed paths several times throughout the last two years but despite John's efforts he'd never been able to enter into friendship with the man. His pale white skin seemed to glow in the moonlight as he stepped quietly onto the balcony, his dark curls reflecting the light in a way John had never before observed. All in all he was striking and John could not withdraw his gaze to save his life.

"Do you not enjoy this sort of event?" Sherlock asked darkly and John knew immediately it was a question of test, he wanted to determine outright if John was even worth his time. He felt obligated to be honest. Sherlock walked towards him slowly, enjoying the sound of silence around them and the look of confusion and desire brewing on the man's face. He understood why his brother had brought him now, because he felt it the sensation of a string connecting the two and pulling them ever closer together.

"No, this is not how I would prefer to pass an evening." He answered honestly before correcting himself. "Though it is a most delightful party." The red velveteen outfit made those quicksilver eyes take on different hues as he looked into them and they were distracting him. He was caught in the man's eyes and felt himself sink into the moment as if nothing else existed. He felt like the forces of nature were slowly pulling them into a powerful orbit around each other. He looked up as Sherlock came to rest just in front of him, his eyes burning down into John's. John's breath was uneven in his chest and he felt a strong desire to give over to the care of this man.

"_No, I suppose it is not too terrible_." Sherlock's response was soft, in fact John wasn't sure had actually spoken the words. "_It is however incredibly boring_."

"Ah, that it is." John felt himself blush, that wasn't the proper answer. A smirk hitched on Sherlock's mouth and John found himself overwhelmed by a powerful urge to kiss him. Sherlock's smirk became a smile and John had the suspicion he was reading his mind.

"_That blush is gorgeous_." The appraisal soared through him and he went even redder.

"T-thank you." He finally pulled his eyes away and looked down. "I do not believe we have spoken before, Lord Holmes." He turned to look out over the grounds, trying to regain his breath.

"Sherlock." He corrected sternly. "No I do not believe we have. However, I do believe that will change starting now." The man's voice was like a purr as he moved even closer to John. John had just long enough to wonder happily if he was going to kiss him, Sherlock's hand sliding towards his face before they heard someone open the doors to the balcony.

"There you are!" A voice exclaimed suddenly and the two men spun to face the voice. The man was just barely taller than John, dark hair and dark eyes. His voice had a strange, unhinged laughing quality to it and he looked like it was Christmas.

"Oh, my apologies!" John snapped but Sherlock registered the hint of fear on his face. "It was Lord Moriarty wasn't it? They did not inform me you arrived." John stepped forward and grasped the man's hand in supplication. "I apologize Lord Holmes, we will have to part our pleasant conversation. I must attend to my duty."

"Yes, do not trouble yourself I have only just arrived." The man's eyes flashed towards Sherlock betraying amusement and something darker. "However I must beg you to come with me, I cannot have my personal attendant hiding in the dark with a man of questionable character."

"I am sorry," John said earnestly. "My Uncle did task me to show you around when you arrived, though he seemed to be of the suspicion you would not arrive in time for the party. Come, I believe you are to meet him and my cousin whom is your intended?" John shuffled back inside and Sherlock found himself pulling in air in a new and different way with the falling silence. It was like part of him was missing. His anger rose sharply, along with some possessive instinct and he had to struggle against the urge to show his true self and steal John away. He growled softly.

"That man is dangerous, brother." Mycroft's voice simply appeared beside him, startling him slightly. "Lord Moriarty is of utmost concern to us." Mycroft leaned back against the railing, his sharp jacket a stark contrast to it.

"He is one of us." Sherlock's growled response made Mycroft tilt his head.

"Yes he is. Who was the other?" Mycroft raised an eyebrow, his dark eyes examining every detail about his brother.

"Just a man." Sherlock said tensely, but Mycroft smiled.

"Just a man would not have pulled you out of that room so fast even I did not see you move, brother. Come now do not be silly, tell me the truth. Is it true, that look on your face? Do you believe him to be your mate? Are you still looking for something so trivial as that?" Mycroft's voice was teasing and Sherlock growled again.

"Leave him. No matter what I think he is I know he is _mine_." Sherlock turned to his brother angrily, clicking his tongue.

"Is he? I believe that right now Lord Moriarty intends to have his way with him. Perhaps you fear the wrong man. Just look at them..." Mycroft's tone was dark and Sherlock felt himself compelled to look where his brother directed.

It was true, Moriarty had John pushed against a wall where conveniently Sherlock and Mycroft could see them but no one inside could. John was flushed, his face looked enthralled and utterly helpless as he whispered with the man. Sherlock growled something clawing at his stomach and he knew he could not allow this to stand. That man was _his_ mate. He'd felt the sign, seen the truth in his eyes, and felt how easily their minds linked. He swept into the main hall and "accidentally" bumped into Moriarty, breaking the moment and his hold over the mortal. John looked up, surprised to see where he was standing and suddenly feeling as if he'd been doused in ice water. His eyes caught Sherlock's and held again, a desperation in his chest.

"I am terribly sorry." Sherlock said softly. "I was not watching where I was going."

"It is not a problem." Moriarty snapped and went to steer John away when a woman came up and grabbed his arm. Sherlock made his move, sweeping his arm through John's and walking him off.

"Thank you..." John whispered softly as they stepped out into the night. "I am not sure what happened." He looked confused but followed as Sherlock led.

"Do not thank me yet, I am not clear how honorable my intentions are." They stopped a short way outside the house, hidden in the tree line. Sherlock knew his kin were close and he had no fear of retaliation from Moriarty, lest he expose his mortal cover. John did not shiver with fear, instead he seemed eager to have this moment alone with Sherlock and Sherlock found this all the more intriguing.

"I do not understand how he is able to affect me so easily. He simply looked me in the eyes and everything went blank." John whispered. "He is so different than you."

"Than me?" Now he was intrigued.

"Yes, you have the same allure as he does, but with you I feel safe. With you I feel like all the ages of the world stretch before and behind me." John turned to look up at Sherlock just as the moon cleared the trees. Sherlock felt his breath hitch in his chest. John looked even more striking in this light and he could feel that string tightening more in his chest. This man had to be his, but he felt a pang. He wanted it to be willingly and he was already unsure of whether or not he'd drawn him in.

"You know not what you say, John Watson." But his hand was already scaling the length of John's neck. "You do not understand..." His motions froze when John spoke.

"No, I do not. You are like no man. I know there is something different about you and your brother. I had heard the rumors and always believed them to be the fantastical notions of bored individuals, however I can feel your hunger like my own breath. I can feel how deeply you desire me. It's rather frightening really, to know that of all those you could choose you have your sight on me." Their eyes locked and Sherlock felt it again. That string pulsing between them.

"You are not safe." He whispered, leaning down. Their mouths drawn together.

"Was I ever?" He breathed as their lips collided.

It was unlike any kiss either of them had shared with another previously. Sherlock had lived for two hundred years and no moment was like this one. John's mouth drew him in, his hand braced over the pulse in his neck and the other sliding up into his sandy hair. John's hands tentatively moved to his arms and slid up his back as their bodies crushed together in the darkness. The kiss seemed to last for hours before they pulled apart, lips swollen and breath ragged. Sherlock made a motion and his carriage appeared, he helped John inside.

"I will see you home safe. You are to come to my manor tomorrow." Sherlock's instructions were firm but once inside the carriage he brought their mouths back together.

"What is this feeling?" John asked him as they pulled apart again. "This pulsing thread between us, what is it?" He tilted his head slightly, unknowingly exposing his neck.

"It..." Sherlock's mouth opened despite his efforts to shove the desperate need away, the throbbing of John's pulse completely undoing his mind. "It is the sign of a bond mate. It means you are destined to be mine..." John felt the heat that pooled in his stomach as Sherlock came slightly undone.

"You want to drink of me..." John said softly, searching Sherlock's eyes. "The rumors are true are they not? You are one of the undead, a vampire?" Sherlock was surprised because John sounded interested not afraid.

"Yes. I have lived for over two hundred years." He found himself letting the words fall easily from his lips. He trusted this man, implicitly. "My brother and I were turned by a woman just after I passed my twentieth year. Yet in all that time no one has drawn me in so quickly as you."

"It has not been quickly." John chided, blushing. "I have tried to catch your eye since I was of age six years ago. At every event, at every gathering, even in the market." Their eyes searched one another's for a long moment. "You can walk in the sun."

"Yes, there is much lore around our kind that is untrue. We are weaker in the day but we do not burn. If we are injured too gravely and left to the sun we will die from weakness not ash." He ran his hand over John's face without touching him, groaning as John easily turned his head further.

"If you do not drink of me this moment it will drive us both mad. I willingly give you of myself. You may tell me more of this lore tomorrow when I meet you, let us not waste what little time we have in this moment." His breath was heavy, forcing its way through his chest as he felt Sherlock lean in towards him.

"Are you not afraid I may drain you and leave you to die?" His sleek mahogany baritone hummed against John's neck.

"I fear nothing of you. You will not leave me to die because I have already become fire in your veins. I became your fascination at least three years ago and now you can no longer put it off. I want to feel it." He pushed his neck into Sherlock's mouth and moaned as Sherlock began to lathe his lips and tongue across it.

It was a deadly and dangerous thing to do, Sherlock had not fed in three days testing himself and his hunger. He also felt the powerful heat of arousal sweep through his body as this man so easily sank into the knowledge of what he was without fear. How John simply gave himself over to the inescapable truth that Sherlock himself had been avoiding for six years. He slowly sank his teeth in, growling deliriously as John's essence poured into his mouth, John moaning under him. He drank only a little, not so much as he wished, but enough that he would be able to learn everything about John as he rested during the next day. When he pulled back, that ruby essence gleaming on his lips he panted. John groaned.

"I find in myself an urge to kiss you like this," He whispered gently reaching up to touch Sherlock's lips. "Is that common in your prey?"

"You have nothing in common with any prey I have ever hunted." Sherlock conceded before pressing their mouths together.

He had fed before. He had even experienced arousal when he fed but it was nothing like the heat blooming in his groin now. This ache was so very different and new. It was possessive, it was dark. He wanted to tie John up and claim him for days before draining him to the point of death and rebirthing him into the life of a vampire - to be his for all eternity. It was almost frightening to him, he had never wanted something this desperately in all his life. The two of them ground their hips together until John shouted.

"Oh stop! Please..." He begged, swallowing hard. "I shall never be able to hide a release like this. Please... Tomorrow... You may do what you wish with me." Sherlock obliged him, sitting up and the two of them heaving for breath. The carriage stopped outside John's farm and he slowly brought himself back into the world. "Are you afraid?" He asked Sherlock as Sherlock walked him toward the door.

"Me?" He asked incredulously.

"Yes, I can feel fear that I know is not my own." John's voice was soft, if not for Sherlock's improved senses he would have had to lean in to him. "Fear that can only be yours. It is this bond is it not?"

"It is. I have never felt something like this. I have never been attached to anyone."

"I have dreamed of you all my life. I have been destined for this." He let his hand reach up and cradle Sherlock's cheek, drawing him down into another kiss. "I will not fight something that is so beautiful and strong."

"There may come a time when you must. Danger is near, John... You are mine. Though there are others around who have their attentions on you."

"I know. Which is why I will release myself fully into your care tomorrow." John smiled. Sherlock looked surprised but John just shook his head. "This life holds nothing for me... Especially nothing so wonderful as a life with you will. I do not wish to continue this charade, your tutelage can teach me to be more than I ever can as a mortal. Please consider it." John kissed him once more and turned to walk in the house. Just inside the door Sherlock called his name, making him turn back. "Yes?"

"I am supposed to ask you that." His voice was tight with emotion but he could clearly see John's smile.

"You already know I accept. I have studied your kind or what is available about them. You will see everything." John nodded and closed the door.

Sherlock was left standing alone in the dark as the moon rose a bit higher. He didn't move for a very long time, watching the candle light that flickered to life and through the hall towards what could only be John's chamber. He felt an overwhelming urge to enter that room and claim John now, however he pressed himself to wait. He must speak with Mycroft first. Mycroft was the leader of their clan and he would have to have permission. Though if Mycroft said no he had every intention of proceeding anyway. John would be his. Mycroft seemed to be waiting for him when he returned to their manor and stalked into his study.

"So was your evening pleasant?" Mycroft teased, a darkness in his voice. He was drinking blood from a wine glass - one of his favorite actions.

"I want him." Sherlock spat as a reply.

"Why should I allow that?" He accented each word, looking over his brother with interest. "You have never wanted a pet."

"He is not a pet!" Sherlock shouted and Mycroft's smirk grew wider as he stood.

"No, he is not is he?" He walked over and circled his brother, observing him. "You have tasted his essence." His face was very close to his brother's, their skin almost touching. "Did you take it? Force him?"

"No... I had no intention of drinking from him but he..." Sherlock shivered.

"Oh. He is magnificent is he not? His family thinks very little of him. He spends his time in books and tending to the wounds of their animals and their servants. They believe him to be dull and that he will be nothing but a bane on their family as they try to wed him off. Imagine their surprise if Sherlock Holmes, Lord of this estate waltzes in just days after their first conversation and asks for his hand." Mycroft's words were cold, Sherlock had a terrible fear his brother was going to deny him this.

"Brother," He said softly, almost moving to plea but Mycroft stopped him.

"I know what you felt. I could see it all over your face. I could see it in his face, hear it in his thoughts... He has been trying to gain your attention for awhile now but you were determined to fight it. So why should I allow you to claim him?"

"I have never asked you for anything!" Sherlock shouted angrily, his entire body tensing. "In the whole of our lives, I have watched you go through countless men and women seeking this same thing. I have done all you have asked without question. If you saw my face then you know I cannot fight this! No matter how much I would wish to!" He was angry.

"That much is true. You will not be able to fight it. However you must use your brain." Mycroft sighed softly. "We will take John Watson into our employ, we will tutor him in the world he is unaccustomed to, and when the time is right we will bring him to our life." Sherlock felt relief sweep through him but it was gone in a moment.

"You..." His voice caught.

"That is my condition." Sherlock sighed and met his brother's eye.

"May I prepare him?" He trembled.

"You may warn him but my methods are my own. You will guide him through the change, but his blood and his change are mine. I am the leader of this family." Mycroft snapped tersely.

"Fine, Mycroft, fine! But he is mine!" Sherlock growled.

"He is and will be, but his death and rebirth will be mine. Think, you imbecile." He sighed. "If you bring him to this life you will lose the ease with which you may read his mind. Your connection will be challenged in every way. This way ensures the two of you remain bonded fully."

He had to concede the point. Mycroft was right. Becoming a sire to a fledgling meant losing whatever ability one had to read their mind, but the thought of Mycroft taking John's life made Sherlock feel darkly possessive again. A growl playing on his lips. Sherlock swept from the room, his anger filling him as he did and Mycroft simply sighed watching him go. This was a dangerous time for his brother to be giving in to sentiment, however if this was truly his bond mate... Well he would be stronger in the end.

"Anthea..." Mycroft turned to the woman who came forward. "I want you to arrange a room near Sherlock's. We're going to have company."

The next morning dawned cool and grey, John waking with the sun and immediately setting to his chores. His two younger sisters joining him as they worked with servants to prepare the house. Once the sun rose a bit higher John took his leave of the house, slipping off into the forest near his house to study. He made it easily to his usual place, a darkened clearing where he could rest easily on the low branches of a tree. He settled himself in his usual place, pulling out a sheaf of parchment. He unrolled it and began to read the notes contained therein. He knew Sherlock could walk during the day, he set his quill and ink on the ground and began to scrawl notes on the parchment with the small amount of information provided to him the night before. He then rolled the parchment and pulled out a small leather bound volume he'd made himself. He began to scrawl in details of the night before, before pausing and looking up. Sherlock was thinking about him, he could tell because he felt a flutter in his chest.

Sherlock found very little sleep, his mind desperate to begin sorting through the volume of memories that came with drinking his lovers blood. John was a scholar on vampires - gaining any knowledge he could. Sherlock could see him sitting in his favorite spot, scrawling notes and observations, correcting parchments and volumes that he collected, and musing over the truths and lies put forth in them. John had studied every piece of information he could find because... Because he understood what Sherlock was from the first moment he'd put his eyes on him. He had known before Sherlock had revealed it to him. Sherlock could see in his mind the dreams that spoke to him of another life, a life his was inexplicably bound to. John was adopted though it was unknown to anyone outside the family he was raised by. His mother and father had been killed during a journey through the country. One of the servants for the Watson family brought the baby boy too them as they had no son and had recently lost a child. John had found out when he was ten - when an uncle arrived in the city to search for him. He was given a necklace which Sherlock was unable to make out in his memories. Something he kept hidden under his shirt. No one else found out about John's origin until he was seventeen when his cousin discovered it and threatened to expose the family. He was surprised at the many memories of John telling his adoptive parents that he would not wed anyone they presented him because he knew he was destined for someone specific. Sherlock could see the moment John realized that person was Sherlock Holmes, Lord of a large manor and one known to avoid the public.

It had been their first moment of contact in the market six years before. Sherlock had been weak, he had not fed and had failed to return home before sunrise. He was hurrying through the market on the way home trying to make it there before he encountered trouble or was injured. He and John had collided outside a small apothecary stall, John dropping everything in his arms to catch Sherlock. Sherlock had been surprised to see such a poor man letting go of such important items in order to assist the man who had plowed into him. His touch had been gentle and guiding but Sherlock could feel in John's memories how it had been their contact that sparked something deeper. How it had been the response inside his own body that confused him. He'd felt that string between them and he could clearly see in John's eyes he felt it too. John had broken several vials of expensive liquids he was using to make medicines. Sherlock immediately tried to replace them as an apology - but the apothecary had been out. As Sherlock negotiated a repayment of the funds lost due to his careless behavior their eyes burned into each other's and in that moment the string tightened. Both had chosen to ignore it then fearing the repercussions, but Sherlock could see how as they seemingly randomly ran into each other again over the next few months John consented to its strength first, allowing himself to become more comfortable with it as time passed. John spoke with his father about the Holmes family, only to be told that he should avoid them outside of court. One of the servants told John she believed the Holmes to be vampires, which he laughed off but found intrigued him. There again was a portion of John's memories that were hidden, so he could not understand them. A puzzle that intrigued him so much he almost raced from his bed to John in order to demand the answers. Instead he focused and pushed beyond the block to the next section of memory. To see how John was determined to know the truth so he began studying the rumors and records that listed anything about these vampire creatures. Desperate to learn so he could rectify the man he was utterly bound to with the rumors around him.

Sherlock woke quickly when he heard Anthea knocking on the door. He knew it was her because her knock was inpatient. She opened the door when he responded.

"There is a gentleman here to see you, Lord Holmes." She said curtly.

"Is it John?" He barely breathed.

"Of course it is, who else would come for you?" She snarled.

"Let him come here..." Sherlock began but she stopped him.

"He is with your brother in the dining room, Lord Mycroft directs you to join them there." Sherlock's face tightened and he dressed hurriedly. He chose his best outfit, a deep purple jacket and white shirt over black trousers. He made his way as slowly as possible to the room to find Mycroft and John chatting in friendly tones.

"So you do not have a true tutor?" Mycroft asked softly, almost kindly.

"No, I am afraid my Uncle has no one to spare and I am considered so hopeless by most others no one will take me." He admitted easily, looking down.

"You are not so bad as that." Mycroft smiled warmly and John flushed just slightly. "When I have met you at court you do admirably, especially for one with so little training."

"I appreciate the commendation, however I disagree."

"Ah, Sherlock." Mycroft smirked as John's eyes immediately snapped up to meet his brother's and the two paused.

"Good morrow, Lord Holmes." John said standing quickly and bowing a bit. "I have come as you requested. I am deeply grateful for the escort home last evening as I have heard a woman was attacked and left to die in the forest shortly after our departure."

"Then it is good that I kept an eye on you." Sherlock smiled and inclined his head. "It is good to see you J... Sir Watson. If my brother is quite finished with you I should like to take you on a tour of the grounds."

"Oh I was merely testing his desire to learn. I am most pleased and will dispatch someone to his parents on the morrow to inform them he will come under our wing. We shall move him here and teach him the ways of the world." Mycroft smirked as John flushed.

"How generous of you." He conceded.

"Yes, I look forward to assisting you in his tutelage." Sherlock said firmly, his face darkening. Mycroft simply waved them off.

"Your grounds are much larger than any indication I have been given." John praised as Sherlock led him through a long ivied tunnel.

"That is because our grounds house many families. This is the home of our clan."

"Why are you telling me this?" John asked softly as they came to rest at the end of the walk, in front of a fountain. "Why do you trust me?"

"It is simple, if you betray us I will kill you." He promised but he moved closer to him. "You want this?"

"I want you." He shrugged.

"You do not even know me."

"I know you better than anyone." He promised as their mouths were inexplicably drawn together again. Sherlock's hand slid immediately into his hair, deepening the kiss.

"John," He hummed, forcing the kiss to stop. "What do you know about us?" He asked, directing him to sit down. John handed him the leather volume and the rolled parchment. He quickly scanned them. "These handwritten notes are yours?" He asked in awe.

"Yes, I have observed many things..." He flushed.

"You could have been labeled a hunter, that would have endangered your life." He kept staring at a word on the first page of the book. Solvanar - he had seen it before but he could not recall where.

"I could have however no one ever notices me. I wanted to understand." He urged as his voice betrayed his passion. "I wanted to understand you. You were so weak that day in the market, so different than when I saw you at the balls..." He looked down.

"I already know this. I saw it all in your blood." He whispered, shivering slightly. "These observations you have made are incredible. You have found many of the truths hidden by our kind."

"Not everything." He tilted his head again.

"That is true. You have the major points however, that silver is poison to us because of a reaction with our blood, that we can be killed by any normal means should we be weakened enough, and of course you have added what I revealed last evening." He smiled and rolled the parchment.

"Sherlock," He whispered and Sherlock felt himself tighten. The way he said his name held a gentle control over him. "Our bond is unavoidable. I know there are only two answers. Either you kill me or you accept me. You have never before had an interest in a partner, so if you plan to destroy me do not toy with my heart. Instead kill me now so I may be at peace."

"I could never do such a thing." Sherlock stood and swept John up into his arms again, cradling his chin. "I wanted to avoid it, I never wanted to feel this - but now I cannot ignore it. And you, you are so incredibly interesting..."

"I am not..." John protested but Sherlock cut him off.

"You are! You met me in an alley before the city was awake, caught me stumbling in weakness and proceeded to wrap your entire mind and passion around me! You learned everything you could about me in order to learn what I was, to learn how I lived... You have been loyal to me without me even having spoken with you. You are the most interesting person I have ever met." He crushed his mouth to John's again, cutting off his next reply.

"They why are you still afraid?" He asked timidly as their kiss broke.

"You can feel it again?" Sherlock's voice was breathless, full of lust.

"Yes, especially now that we are so near to each other." He searched his eyes, panting.

"It is my brother..." He didn't speak, instead the words sounded inside John's head. He shivered in Sherlock's grip. "He has told me I must let him give you rebirth."

"You mean he will be the one to drain me?" John's voice held a hint of fear.

"I am sorry," He looked down, as if he had failed. He felt John's fingers slip under his chin and lift his face.

"I will go through any amount of fire at the hands of others if in the end I shall be privileged to spend all eternity by your side." He moved gently and brought a soft, passionate kiss to Sherlock's mouth - slowly pressing his way in so their tongues could search one another. Sherlock moaned softly, feeling John as if he was inside his own body.

"You have never had a lover..." Sherlock whispered.

"No, I have not." John blushed. "Does that..."

"No... I want to claim you." He was almost begging. "I want to claim you before he touches you." His mouth greedily returned to John's pushing him back into the pillar of the gazebo.

"Sherlock," He whimpered softly.

"Please John, let me have you." His lips trailed down over his jaw, pushing down his collar to find purchase on his neck.

"I am only yours." John whispered his reply.

Sherlock took his hand and half drug him back into the house. Anthea came to them to offer them anything they needed and Sherlock snapped at her to leave them be. He pulled John in his room and snapped the door shut behind them, pulling him to himself for a deeply lustful kiss.

"Sherlock, that was..."

"Obvious, I know." He smirked proudly as he pushed John back. "I wanted to claim you last night... You dreamt of it did you not?" He purred in his ear and John groaned.

"H-how..." John turned to look at him, falling back on the bed.

"I felt your passion, you pulled me into the dream." He flowed down over John, pinning him to the bed. "You wanted to see me, the real parts of me." He whispered, his hands running over John just above his body - in effect massaging his aura. John whimpered and leaned his head to the side automatically.

"Sherlock, oh God..." He whispered, his nails digging into Sherlock's arms through his jacket. "When you do that..."

"Why do you offer your neck so easily?" He moaned, his tongue lathing over the barely visible red marks where he had taken John's essence the night before.

"I cannot explain it." He panted as Sherlock undid his jacket. "I can feel the need in your body, the need to drink of me and my mind simply gives in to allow it." His breathing was ragged and desperate.

"This bond is uncommon for us... For us to find..." Sherlock tried to explain though his mind was already engaged in other thinking. "There are so many people in the world the likelihood of us finding our mates is usually low." He whispered lathing kisses over John's neck as he slowly pulled the various layers of clothing away. "I am forever in debt to the power that brought you into my knowledge. I shall protect you for all the ages of the world." He promised, leaning up to kiss John as he pulled his own shirts off.

"As I will protect you." John promised in return, leaning up to latch his mouth on Sherlock's neck. He moaned deeply, feeling the tenderness with which John kissed him.

"I would give you this life now if I could..." He whimpered, his hand gripping John's hair tightly. "Oh curse Mycroft that it must wait." He pushed John down, sliding his trousers off. He kissed down John's body before returning to kiss him. His hand gently stroking his demanding erection.

"Sherlock!" John whimpered and arched.

"I want to drink you and claim you." Sherlock pleaded, his mouth again on John's neck.

"Oh please..." He begged. Sherlock brought two fingers up letting John suckle them gently for a long moment before reaching down and gently pushing against his quivering ass. He pushed them in and out as John whimpered and moaned. He toyed with him for a long time, until John's whimpers were almost whines. He pulled away only to get his own trousers off, returning and stroking his own weeping cock, slicking himself with the liquid. He pressed himself against John, wrapping John's legs around his waist as he leaned down to kiss him hard.

"Oh you are so tight... Give in to me." Sherlock demanded as he kissed over to his neck and nipped at it. John arched unintentionally and pushed Sherlock inside of himself with a loud curse and whimpering.

"Oh my God!" John growled, trembling hard.

"So tight..." Sherlock clawed into his shoulders, waiting for a long moment before he slowly began to pump his hips in and out of John. John moaned loudly, his neck exposed and his whimpers desperate.

"Drink me! Please..." He begged. "Take me into yourself as you claim me!"

"You are so close to release already..." He whispered in his ear, his voice half in his mind and half in his words. "_You have no idea how much I desperately need this_." He let his teeth trail over John's neck before gently sinking them into the exact same place as the night before.

His hips took on a life of their own slamming into John even harder as his essence spilled into his hungry mouth. His blood carried his lust forcing Sherlock's to achieve atmospheric levels as he teetered close to his own release. He pulled up off John's neck as they both we finally thrust over the edge, their vision going white, both of them shouting, and completely in sync with each other. A few drops of John's blood dripped down over his chest as the two lay there panting and staring in each other's eyes. Silence descended around them but Sherlock spoke, the words echoing in John's mind.

"_I had intended to keep you under me, writhing for desire for hours_..." He said smirking slightly. He shifted slightly so he pulled out of John but leaned down so they were still tightly embraced, with Sherlock on top. He caressed John's cheek and licked the slow trickling blood on his neck.

"I have desired this moment too strongly. I felt how my blood inspired you..." He whispered, panting for breath. "Your desire built in my own body until I could not help but release with you." He slowly raised his hand to Sherlock's cheek, cupping it as he did.

"_We must do this properly_." His voice again rumbled inside John's head again. "_You will have to leave me again this evening and return tomorrow. I believe my brother will begin your rebirth then. I_..." He looked away, sighing as he sank down into their embrace. "_He may not allow me to be present_."

"I imagine he will not." John agreed. "I believe you will have made him angry, claiming me like this." He blushed as Sherlock looked into his eyes. "It will be worth it."

"Yes, I believe you are." He smiled.

John remained hidden away with Sherlock the rest of the afternoon and that evening he was dismissed back to his own manor with the promise of the request for his permanent relocation the following morning. When he returned looking pleased and bright his family demanded to know what happened but he gave them nothing. Instead consenting only to say that they may receive some favorable news the following morning. The next morning John woke early and he was surprised to find his father sitting on the edge of his bed. There was a nervousness coiled inside his chest that he knew must belong to his beloved. It would no longer allow him sleep. John stood and dressed quickly before turning to face the man, whose face betrayed an eagerness to speak with him.

"I don't know what you did last night son, however I am proud of you." The man said gruffly.

"What are you speaking of?" John demanded, looking confused. He never received so much as a kind word from this man and to hear them now was utterly infuriating.

"A letter arrived just before dawn from the Holmes family. It seems Lord Mycroft wishes to tutor you and employ you as one of his assistants. They have asked us to send you with all of your things to take up residence at their estate, today." John's gaze swept around the room as confusion filled him. He had not expected such a request so suddenly. He had expected to be required to remain at home for some time while going to train. Though this was a much preferred reality.

"Oh..." He said softly after opening and closing his mouth a few times. "Well I suppose I did something right then." It was a weak reply but he did not have anything better to offer. His mind already rife with the possibilities that lay before him. As soon as this very evening he would be with his beloved, permanently.

"We dispatched a letter to your Uncle for approval, if he concedes you will be dismissed from us at once." There in that tone were the words John had expected. The disappointment finally replaced with pride. Tentative pride that was aimed more at the potential fortune and connection the name Holmes would provide John's adoptive family and none saved for the man himself. His father had never before been proud to call him his son. He was far too ordinary.

"So this will be it then. Uncle will say yes because he knows how poorly you think of me and does not hold me in the same esteem." John gathered his clothes together, sorting through them to find an emerald green outfit. "Very well father. Thank you." He nodded as his father left.

The messenger returned promptly from the Duke's house and with a letter that agreed it would be perfect for John to gain tutelage under the Holmes brothers. So it was easily arranged and around sunset John was on his way to a new life - in many ways. He carefully flicked through one of his few documents on vampirism as the carriage drove on. Sherlock snapped awake as he felt John's energy close to him, his scent filling his nose. Their shared tension becoming stronger as their proximity increased. He sat up slowly, moving like a cat - long fluid motions. He swept through his room, hastily dressing and his senses expanding to take in the feeling of the house. He heard voices in the hallway, most importantly he heard John's soft tones. Excitement filled his chest and he could feel the subtle shift as John began to fill with it as well. Anthea almost laughed as she directed John and saw the stupid smile that covered his face the closer they moved towards Sherlock's room.

"Lord Mycroft says you are to remain in your room unless escorted by a servant, the Lord himself, or the younger Lord, Sherlock."Her voice was soft as she directed him. "Your room is close to that of Sherlock as he will be your primary instructor. Do rest well, the Lord will meet with you in the soon." John stood perfectly still, immediately turning towards Sherlock's door just as it opened. The pair so innately in tune with each other that every movement seemed to be made in equal measure by either man.

"John..." Sherlock's voice called as he stepped into the room. He was still somewhat asleep. John looked up and blushed. He was wearing his best outfit and had a small case in his hands, which he set down. Sherlock was fighting the urge to take his lover in his arms, but the urge was too strong.

"I am sorry if I have disturbed you..." John whispered, blushing as Sherlock swept towards him and into his arms.

"You beautiful man." Was the only reply.

Sherlock helped John settle into his room and John had barely closed his eyes when he was awoken by Anthea. She instructed him to pull on his shirt and trousers before following her downstairs. He was led past the dining room and below the main entrance to a hidden staircase that led down underground. When he arrived in the room below Mycroft and Sherlock were waiting for him, seated inside a well lit bed chamber with a heavy door. John rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked between the two men with some anxiety. Mycroft looked positively elegant in a dark red dress robe. His eyes flashing as he took in the man before him. John could feel Sherlock's nervousness, pooling in their stomachs and causing both of them to flush slightly.

"When these occasions present themselves I usually prefer to draw them out, as you are no doubt aware my dear Watson, we have had to take a rather rash approach. We have discovered a plot to bring injury to you and thus we have had to rush things. We have no time to spare on our task, so I shall put it simply to you..." Mycroft smiled, standing up and sweeping close to John. His face merely a breath apart, he smiled as John remained firm. "I intend to drain you of your mortal life and turn you to ours. It will take three days. During the course of each evening I shall come here and drain your essence and then you shall take my blood. During the course of the day my brother will guard you - but you are not to drink from him until our ritual is complete. You are free to do whatever is necessary to deal with the pain, however if you drink from him you will die before this task is finished. Do you understand?" He growled darkly, leaning close to John. John did not flinch, instead he focused himself resolutely.

"You are leader of this clan, you are the elder brother, you are my tutor - whatever your rules are I accept." He replied as firmly as he could. Sherlock's nerves were gnawing away at him, though his own resolve was strong. Mycroft smiled and turned to move back towards his chair.

"Sherlock, prepare him for me." Mycroft smirked, sinking back in his chair.

Sherlock walked over to John and gently pressed kisses to his mouth, listening to the moan of his lover as he easily freed him from his shirt. Neither of them content with the thought that Mycroft may actually go through with his threat to physically use John. Sherlock was desperate to claim John again, their mouths moving furiously against each others' as they tried to quell the emotion roiling inside their chests. Sherlock only stopped when Mycroft suddenly gasped and swept close to them, shoving Sherlock to the side. Sherlock moved as Mycroft's eyes burned onto the pendant on his neck. Sherlock was confused, his nerves slowly fading. John stayed strong, smirking a bit as Mycroft's shock betrayed itself.

"You're a Solvanar?!" He demanded angrily, moving to touch John but stopping short. His anger filling his dark eyes.

"Yes, the last of my branch of the family tree." He countered easily and Sherlock smirked as he saw something in his lovers gaze that Mycroft missed. John was amused, he had expected this moment and planned for it accordingly. It made something in Sherlock's chest purr contentedly. This man was a perfect match for him. "A branch you tried to remove, Lord Mycroft." His eyes hardened but he did not raise his tone. Mycroft sneered.

"What do you mean?" He pulled back, growling in anger.

"You killed my parents and my sister as retaliation for their attempts to kill your pet when they crossed paths with her on our journey north. I was just a babe when it happened and my mother had the intelligence to hide me under a blanket while Anthea tore through the wagon to ensure she had destroyed us all. My Uncle informed me of the story when he found me around my tenth birthday. However it is of no consequence to you what I _was_, Mycroft. I am dead to them and have been for three years hence." John sighed and finally looked down. "I am Solvanar only by birth. I pledge my life to Sherlock and to this coven regardless of history."

"What's a Solvanar?" Sherlock asked curiously, looking to his brother.

"It is the name given to families born of mortal and vampire relations. A male vampire can sire a child with a female mortal, but the child is almost exactly like their mother. If the child, who is both half vampire and half mortal, chooses to live a mortal life and denies herself the vampire aspect of her being she becomes a Solvanar. She will then most likely birth a mortal girl child with her mortal husband who again shall resemble the mother and grandmother almost entirely. It is the fourth generation that a son can finally be born again of the mortal line. John's parents ran afoul of Anthea when she went out to feed many years ago. They intended to kill her because her knowledge of their bloodline was dangerous to their young children. Solvanar children are prone to seeking out vampires because the blood still lingers in their bodies. They crave the life that was denied to them by their mothers. It has been found to be especially true in the sons of the Oaken Solvanar, John's line. Their hunger and desire for nocturnal life usually finds footing in the sons born of the line, beginning the pattern all over again if or when they choose to take a mortal woman to their side. As I understood it his family had been wiped out. However when I discovered the work on the Oaken Solvanar here in our city I was informed that John was the younger sibiling, the one not given the Solvanar heritage..." Mycroft explained for them both, noting that John simply smiled.

"You were intentionally misinformed, my Lord. My sister and I were twins however as it was I was older by a short while." John continued smiling. "I know you are not afraid of my heritage as a Solvanar, Mycroft. It is not my birth that frightens you because we both know that my birth makes me ripe for your clan. The blood hunger that comes to the sons of the Solvanar, particularly the Oaken Solvanar is what drew me to Sherlock in the first place." He spoke softly, with focus.

"Blood hunger?" Sherlock asked softly, now entirely enthralled.

"The sons of the Solvanar usually fall prey to the strength of the vampiric nature of their heredity. They are usually sent to reside with other, elder males of the Solvanar lines. The descendants of the city of Solvanar. They are instructed and guarded so they do not given in to the power of the blood hunger within their bodies." John finally looked down and Sherlock felt sorrow he knew belonged not to himself but to his beloved. "That is why I am considered dead to them. I did not resist."

"You have tasted blood?" Mycroft asked eagerly, stepping closer to John again.

"I have." He sighed. "My father taught me to hunt but he discovered me drinking the blood of a deer after one such hunt. He was not entirely sure what to make of the situation. It was then he wrote to my Uncle who came and instructed me in my heritage. My Uncle intended to send me to stay with another distant relative who would continue to instruct me and keep me from my own demons, as it were - however it required him to leave me alone for a time. During which I met Sherlock and became possessed of the idea of understanding him. As many of your clan came to me for injuries I was able to speak with them and earn their trust. One of the lesser members of your clan brought me a sample of Sherlock's blood." John flushed a bit with shame, but he felt Sherlock's desire sweep through his own body like fire.

"You've tasted it?" Sherlock asked breathlessly.

"Yes." John sighed. "I have, it was then that I understood what was before me. It was not enough to influence my own mortal life but it was enough to inflame the blood thirst. When my Uncle returned I informed him I had discovered my mate and that I was going to give myself over to you. He was disappointed beyond measure and tried vainly to convince me not to go through with my plan. However after several months of discussion and correspondence he relented. He understood that I was motivated not by power but by love. He crafted a story that I had been discovered and killed, thus ending the branch of my family." Mycroft smirked but he was careful not to betray his thoughts on his face.

"So you are correct, I do not fear your heritage, however I do feel you are saying I fear something..." He swept closer, reaching towards John but stopping again.

"You are afraid of the power of my shield. The Oaken shield, the birthright of an Oaken Solvanar." He gently touched the pendant of his necklace.

"Oaken shield?" Sherlock furrowed his brow.

"Yes. Each Solvanar family is named for a mighty tree. My family is the Oaken Solvanar. This necklace," He indicated the small square bronze colored pendant etched with knot work and a garnet in the center that rested just above his sternum. "Is my birthright. One is made for each child of the family on the occasion of their birth. It is imbued with the power of the half mortal, half vampire matriarch of the Solvanar clan. In this case my grandmother's blood was used in the creation of the garnet. The power of the blood makes it so a vampire cannot touch me without my permission. Which is what Moriarty was trying to garner from me at the ball recently. However it must be implicitly given and cannot be commanded over." He smiled.

"So my brother..." Sherlock was almost laughing but Mycroft looked angry.

"Cannot touch me. A vampire may only contact me when I give them permission or I am bonded to them. Both of which are the case with you, my love." He focused on Mycroft, his intention pooling in his eyes. "Touch me Mycroft." He commanded. "I give you permission to end my mortal life and ask humbly that you initiate me into your nocturnal realm. Take your desire from me."

"Oh he is precious." Mycroft growled and moved closer. "There is but one thing left to do say."

"Lord Mycroft, leader of this coven - grant me your nocturnal crown. Remove me from the cycle of the sun and birth me into the phases of the moon so that I may bring honor unto your coven and family for all the ages of the world." John whispered, bowing his head. "I follow the rules of the Coven matriarch and the one she has deemed leader, you, the coven father. I give all of my loyalty to ensuring this family is protected and honored. I submit to your will asking only that you grant me the right to remain at my beloveds' side for all the ages of the world."

"How do you know the oath?" Mycroft grabbed him, holding his face tightly - anger in his eyes.

"Anthea told me the oath as repayment for her injuries." John replied simply, still remaining firm. Sherlock almost groaned with need.

"Sherlock to your task." Mycroft commanded his voice dark and thick with hunger as he watched John and Sherlock collide for a heated kiss. John melted easily into Sherlock's guidance even though he could feel Sherlock's jealousy pooling inside of his own stomach. Sherlock kissed him and continued undressing him, doing his best to not let his emotion show. John's eyes flashed to his, promising and reassuring as they could be in a moment like this.

"Show him..." Sherlock whispered commandingly and John moved forward very tentatively to put his hand on Mycroft's chest. Every move he made was an example of surrender, culminating only when John's body was only inches from Mycroft's. Mycroft could do nothing but watch with rapt attention as John surrendered to the will of the two men. John's final action was to gently tilt his head to the side, exposing his neck to Mycroft's desperate intentions. Mycroft felt pride, hunger, and something akin to lust flare inside his stomach.

"Drink of me, Mycroft. Claim what is yours: the mortal remnants of a life you despise." John coaxed, his eyes fluttering closed. Mycroft felt the spike of heat rise in his body along with the desperate hunger as his gaze fell over the throbbing vein in John's neck. It had been worth the painful sleep of a day without feeding to feel the shiver that ran through John's body as Mycroft's aura washed over him.

"You willingly submit to the will of this clan? To _my_ will?" Mycroft barely breathed as he leaned over John to inhale the scent coming off of him. He pressed his nose gently against the crease of his neck, groaning. John groaned softly himself, the power of Mycroft's need cutting off the rationality of his thought.

"Yes. I would do anything for Sherlock." He replied sternly.

"Even die?" Mycroft grinned and pulled back slightly to search his eyes.

"If my life would save his I would forfeit it without hesitation. My feelings will not change tomorrow or in three thousand years. I shall love him for all the ages of the world. He is my mate." John's voice was eager and earnest, reassuring both of the Holmes men that he meant each word. "My heritage as a Solvanar not withstanding I do not come here to gloat or flaunt what I am. The blood hunger inside of me is not what drives me here to your door. I come only as a man helplessly tied to another being for all the ages of the world." Sherlock made a soft noise and Mycroft looked to him. Sherlock desperately wanted to lay his claim, to turn John and claim his as his own forever.

"_Sherlock, his heritage makes it even more important that I should be the one to turn him. I know you wish to claim him. I do not blame you for wishing it. He is quite worthy but I must do this. If you turn him we will lose the advantage offered by his blood. Help me honor his request._" Mycroft's words echoed in Sherlock's mind as he stood and gently came closer. He caressed John's arms, their bond forcing him to relax more into Mycroft's touch.

Mycroft could feel John's pulse beating strongly under his skin, begging to be set free. His entire body softened into the moment and pleaded for the two of them to drink him. To take his essence and remake him into something new, something better, someone worthy of Sherlock. What neither of the brothers could accurately convey in that moment was that he was already worthy of him. He was in fact worthy of more, however they could not find the words to tell him how true those thoughts were. Mycroft gave in to the lust purring in his chest and slowly, reverently took John's face in his hands. He kept his neck tilted to the side and gently pressed his teeth into the tanned skin. John let out a groan as he felt his skin give way and his blood rushing into Mycroft's mouth. Sherlock tightened his grip around John supporting his weight as he whispered reassuring words in his ear. Mycroft's eyes flashed up to Sherlock's and Sherlock easily followed the command. He sank his teeth into John's shoulder still supporting him from behind as the two brothers drained him. John's soft moans became breathless as he felt his strength ebb and his control over his body faded. John's body responded first with lust and then dissolved into utter weakness as his strength left. He all but collapsed in Sherlock's arms, the movement pulling him from their mouths, his eyes half closed as he shivered on the edge of death and life. The two brothers easily shifted him to the bed, letting his rest easily against Sherlock's chest. Sherlock trying to keep John alert, active, and showing him he was safe. Mycroft cut open his wrist and pressed it to John's mouth.

"The hunger is inside of you, born into you by your birth..." He whispered darkly. "Let it free. Let it find a home in the truth you are desperate to feel." He coaxed. Sherlock let his touch flutter over John's body as John weakly latched on to Mycroft's wrist and drank slowly but steadily.

Mycroft let him continue for a long time, watching as John whimpered and fought the edge of darkness that tried to claim him. Eventually he pulled away, weakened by the experience but watching as John's eyes slowly closed into the sleep that came with the transformation. He grunted in pain and Sherlock looked momentarily terrified, turning his eyes to his brother for direction. Mycroft did his best to give Sherlock a reassuring look as Anthea came and helped him up.

"It will be painful for him, his body will die while his mind remains strong and active. Stay beside him, comfort him however you can, I must go feed and rest. Sherlock, there is blood wine in the cabinet. If he begins to feel too much pain give him some it will dull the sensation. Be sure you feed when he sleeps." He ordered softly.

"_I thought you intended to..._" Sherlock focused on Mycroft, his thoughts fluttering into his brother's mind. His voice still sounding small and terrified.

"_I did intend to claim him physically, however I can see now that it is an unnecessary portion of this task. He will remain loyal to you no matter what happens. His memories, as jumbled as they are make that clear to me. Rest with him. Protect him. He is a better mate than any I could have sought to provide you._"

With that Mycroft let Anthea escort him out of the room and Sherlock pulled a trembling, weak, and mostly sleeping John into his arms and cradled him like the most precious gem in the world. For that was what he was, the most magnificent jewel in Sherlock's nocturnal crown.


	2. Two Loves

- This chapter just took the story all over the place! It features some Dark!Sherlock, Kind!Mycroft, and MyJohnLock for sure. This is the chapter where Mycroft steps up whatever little plan is going on in his head. He won't tell me what it is. Little bugger. Enjoy!-

John woke sometime later, it felt like it had been only minutes but he could tell by the way Sherlock was breathing it had been at least a few hours. His body felt strange - like it was pinning him down instead of holding him. Pain rocketed through his body and he grunted unintentionally. Sherlock's hand brushed his arm and he tensed, expecting pain but not finding it. The blanket drug across his skin as Sherlock jerked awake forcing him to gasp loudly, the sensation surprisingly different though he knew logically the cloth weighed less than Sherlock's hand. His lover sat up and grabbed him, searching his eyes to ensure he was not injured too badly.

"S-Sorry," He forced out, trembling with terrible chills. A heavy blanket was wrapped around him. The tone of his voice hurt his ears and he grunted again.

"No need to be sorry my love." Sherlock whispered, cradling his face. He spoke softly, his words bringing John ease. "Your senses are expanding and your mortal body is being transformed. Today will be the most painful, the morrow will be the hardest mentally." He gently kissed John who whimpered some at the contact but refused to allow Sherlock to pull away.

"You make it better..." John whispered breathlessly. "Touching you makes it better." He kissed his lover again, panting as he did. "Why does everything feel wrong?"

"Your body is dying my love," Sherlock's voice was soft, like a whispering wind in his ear. His long fingers dragging across John's back and making him moan loudly. "It is both dying and yet being reborn. Close your eyes." John did as he asked and he moaned even louder. The sensation of touch magnified thousands of times.

"Oh. Oh Sherlock!" He whispered, clawing weakly into his lovers shoulders. "I can hear the blood in your veins... Your fingers feel amazing..."

"Hush my love, you are going too quickly. Easy." Sherlock whispered in guidance, letting his lips gently find John's anew. John kissed him hungrily, using the sensation to mask the intense pain flowing through his body. He felt alternating waves of weakness and strength as he kissed his mate, his whole being focused on the feel of their touch.

"The string is tighter, it is like fire." John whispered against his mouth.

"It is yearning for the bonding ritual," He replied, kissing him more fiercely. "It will gain the reward it seeks once my brother has finished with you and I may take you away from here."

"Take me away?"

"Only for a short time, my precious one." Sherlock assured him, combing his hand back through John's hair. He pressed his hand over John's eyes instructing him wordlessly to close them again. John moaned as fire spread through him both in pain and in lust. "We will go to France for awhile. So as not to be disturbed. We will complete our bonding and when we return we will be officially married by the Duke." He nuzzled his nose against John's neck, groaning softly at the way his smell changed.

"I am on fire." He whimpered, pressing against Sherlock's touch. "Claim me again..." He pleaded, groaning as Sherlock again ran his hand just a bit above his skin. He thrashed his head, feeling alternatively dizzy and inflamed.

"My power over you is still strong... If not stronger." He purred as John moved.

"Stronger..." He conceded, blushing. "It is as if I can read your thoughts. Touch me more, please. Before your brother comes and takes me."

"Listen to you plead. I really should not touch you now with your body aching so..." Sherlock's voice was dark, a sudden wave of possessiveness washing over him. John whimpered as a plea and Sherlock's eyes darkened more. All sorts of dark jealous and angry things were rising in his chest. John could feel them like a badly tuned radio, pulsing in his veins.

Sherlock pushed John down hard on the bed, ignoring his whimpers of pain. His mouth and teeth all over his chest and shoulders. His eyes growing darker by the moment. It hurt but John felt pleasure more strongly. His mind seemed to shiver and tremble before the pain simply began to fade. The pleasure just crowded into his mind and forced all the sensations of pain away. It forced everything away until he could think of nothing save Sherlock. Sherlock who was lost in his own primal nature from a mixture of a lack of feeding, brooding jealousy, and pure desire for the writhing man before him. He was not intentionally giving into this darker side of himself but his control over himself was faltering quickly. His aura bore down on John's fighting for submission just as he pressed touches and kisses all over John's body demanding physical submission as well. Demanding that John submit in every way to him. John whimpered and moaned, his entire body flooded with fire and desperation. His cock ached between them, still trapped for the moment in his trousers. It did not take long however for Sherlock to rip them away, leaving him utterly exposed and trembling.

"Who do you belong to?" Sherlock growled in his ear, roughly pulling his hair back. "WHO?" His eyes were dark and his emotion raged inside both of their chests, forcing John's mind to sputter and halt.

"You, Sherlock. To you." John groaned and gasped as Sherlock's mouth and tongue traced hard paths over his neck and shoulders. He shuddered when Sherlock nipped at the spot Mycroft had drained him, trembling as Sherlock nipped harder the second time.

"I am going to take you so hard, so utterly violently that no one else will ever satisfy you. You are _mine_." He growled again, this time even lower.

He found the bottles of scented oils next to the bed, knowing they were put there by Mycroft for his little _games_. It made his temper flare and he yanked one open slicking his fingers overzealously with oil before pushing two of them almost unceremoniously into John. John cried out first in pain and then in pure pleasure as Sherlock's magic bore down on him again. Sherlock was using his magic to restrict the pain, rather unintentionally, as he was utterly desperate to mark his mate. To reclaim him. He worked John over with his fingers, working to bring him to the edge of and then restraining his release. John completely lost in the sensations burning in his body could do nothing but moan and whimper, the pain a faint shadow in the background noise of his mind. Sherlock pressed a third slicked finger into the tight muscles, spreading John wider and wider as he worked. There was nothing for John but Sherlock, he was ensnared and even the room faded from his knowledge.

"Sherlock! PLEASE!" John shouted, utterly intoxicated by the moment. Sherlock smiled and let out a soft purr like growl as John begged. "No more torment, claim me! Please my love!" John urged, his toes curling into the mattress. "Use me as you wish." He pleaded.

"Are you _mine_?" He growled darkly, undoing his own trousers and his face close to John's. His eyes were dark and menacing, the whites barely visible.

"Only yours." John panted in response, trembling.

"You belong to me." His reply was utterly dark as he slammed his hard length deep into John, burying himself to the hilt hard and fast.

John arched and almost released from the sensation but Sherlock bit down on his shoulder hard. The harsh pain keeping him from tumbling over the edge. He whined and groaned but Sherlock refused to let up, instead pounding their hips together with a punishing pace. John could hardly breathe. He could see nothing but his lover, his mind completely narrowed to focus only on Sherlock. Sherlock growled deeply, the noise sending shivers of terror through John. The terror seized in his chest but he was too weak to do anything to stop Sherlock. He was completely at Sherlock's mercy and was a whimpering mess as Sherlock continued to pound away into him. Without any warning Sherlock arched up and orgasmed, sending John over edge. John's body collapsed, utterly exhausted, underneath his still bucking lover. Sherlock growled down at him, his eyes pure black, his attention drifting over the bite marks on his neck.

"I will drink you and you will drink me..." He commanded in a feral voice and John's mind went fuzzy again. Fear flooded him but Sherlock was beyond reason and ignored it.

Fear. Mycroft felt it flooding his senses. Fear he knew was not his own. _John. _He sat straight up in bed and threw his robe around himself. His nightclothes clinging to him as he hurried. Anthea sat up and looked at him. She looked moderately alarmed by the anger on his face, so she stood hurriedly, throwing her dressing gown around her shoulders.

"Lord Holmes?" She asked timidly.

"Send George down to the chamber. _Now_." He growled and he took off.

Sherlock's mouth was just over John's neck, John whimpering and writhing in pain. He couldn't move, his body wouldn't respond to him. Terror was like ice in his veins as he realized that Sherlock's mind was not his own. There was nothing he could do to stop him. Their connection was hollow and aching, the thread so tight between them if felt as if it might snap. Just as Sherlock's teeth were about to break the skin on John's neck he was seized by the throat and roughly thrown across the room into the wall. Mycroft stood between John and Sherlock heaving with anger. His aura made him seem even larger than he was and John allowed himself to completely collapse as Sherlock's control was broken free. He was safe. Beside Mycroft stood a tall, burly man who was also acting as a wall between the now sputtering Sherlock and John. Sherlock growled and moved to launch himself at Mycroft but was frozen by Mycroft's outstretched hand. Mycroft using his magic to pin Sherlock to the wall.

"If you move I _will_ hurt you." He growled as a promise.

"Leave me to my mate." Sherlock growled darkly back. His eyes wide and black, anger apparent in every line of his body.

"I told you to feed. I commanded you to! Look what _you_ have done!" Mycroft stepped to the side so Sherlock could see John convulsing in the bed. He was almost shouting in pain and his fingers clawed into the bed clothes.

"J-John?" Sherlock said softly, his eyes suddenly fading from black to their normal appearance. His voice trembling. John tried to respond but the effort took too much and he sank back against the pillows panting.

"George take Sherlock to the feeding area, ensure he feeds appropriately, and then return him to his chambers. He is to remain there until dark fall when he may rejoin us here." Mycroft's rage was undeniable.

"Mycroft..." Sherlock tried to plead but he saw the look that greeted him on Mycroft's face.

"You have your orders. Now go." Mycroft turned and swept over to the counter in the bed chamber. He found a bottle of blood wine and filled a glass, slipping into the bed and pulling John gently into his arms. "Here little one, drink..." He whispered in a soft voice. "Please my little one..." Sherlock watched in awe, he'd never seen Mycroft be so tender with anyone save himself as a small child. He wanted to stay, to protect John but George grabbed him by the nape of his neck and hauled him from the room. John slowly opened his eyes and looked up at Mycroft, whimpering like a child. Mycroft simply smiled and cupped his head, helping him sit up and putting the glass to his lips. "There now," He whispered as John started to sip the drink. Mycroft helped him until he'd finished the cup and his trembling had subsided a bit.

"That tastes like you." John said softly, in a small voice.

"Yes, it would." He smiled. "It is made from my blood. We save it for special needs like this. It is not time for you to have my true blood yet, not until dark falls. This however will help dull the pain and ease your way a bit." He gently caressed John's cheek as he held him close. "Are you to terribly hurt?"

"No... He did not mean..." John tried to sit up and protest but Mycroft held him firmly.

"I know." He said calmly, gently running his hands over John's arms. He could feel the moment both in John's muscles and in their growing Sire/Fledgling connection the moment he began to relax. "He has not fed save what small relief he has taken from you in many days. I instructed him to feed when you slept and he did not. He put you in danger, my little one. You could have passed into shadow." He whispered tenderly, his hand cupping John's cheek and holding his gaze. "He will return to you and I will allow him to claim you when the time is right as you forgive him and I trust your judgment. However John, my little fledgling - you must promise me one thing. If ever he hurts you, you feel afraid, or if anything happens to him come back to me. I will guard and protect you." His face was close to John's and John was surprised by the desire that rose in his chest, the desire to join their lips. He blinked very slowly before licking his lips and speaking.

"You know so little of me yet you seem to care so much. I have never seen this side of you, Lord Holmes." His voice was soft but he tried to remain firm. Mycroft was pleased by his effort and softened more, cradling him close to his own body. Trying to help subdue the shivering that possessed him now.

"I know much about you, little one. I do not believe it is a secret that you have a had a zealous suitor who has been denied your hand. I was sadly denied the pleasure of you at least a dozen times." Mycroft smirked as John blushed. "I confess that I did not know you were Solvanar. However I knew you were important to my coven. Ever since you were small my people have returned to me from nights they should have perished with a story of a kind young boy who tended to their wounds like no other ever had. Someone who was born with knowledge of healing our wounds though they were only mortal. You see, little one, our kind has very few healers. Most of those who embrace the life of the night turn their back on their fellows. They seek only a life for themselves or their mates and never for those in their coven or their family. That is what made the civil war that lead to the creation of your line so deadly. I sought to bring you to this life before Sherlock was even aware of you. I wanted to train you and perfect you so when you were ready the transition would feel natural." He sighed a bit wistfully and sat back, caressing his cheek with his hand.

"You were the suitor my Uncle told me of." John said quietly, as he realized it was the truth. "The one who would not take no for an answer. The one who began asking when I was but eleven. He never would tell me who it was."

"No, he would not. I asked him not to." He tensed, his mouth thinning into a grimace. "You see I discovered how you felt for my brother. How he felt for you. It was then I understood that you were not to be mine no matter how much I desired it. I need your word John Hamish Watson, that if something should happen you will come back to me." He whispered, his mouth barely apart from John's. "I will not see you fall to shadow. I want you in our family and I want to see you enjoy the ages of the world at our sides. I will always protect you, I will always guard you."

"I promise, Mycroft. If for some reason something should happen to Sherlock or if he crosses any lines I shall come to you." His voice was thick as their eyes locked. John could read how Mycroft yearned for him and he wanted to unite their mouths but he hesitated.

"You are not betraying him for wanting to touch me." Mycroft said softly, smiling as John blushed. He trailed one finger over John's cheek. "He knows that fledglings often feel strongly for their sires." He pressed his mouth to John's claiming it in a tender but powerful kiss that threatened to obliterate John's mind. He moaned softly and it took a long time for him to finally pull away. "He is jealous of that bond, however he does not yet understand how powerful the connection between you two will be."

"Why did you not take me last evening?" John forced out, his shivering slowly subsiding.

"You did not want me to." Mycroft said simply, a smirk on his face. "I will never force you to do something you wish not to. Others I would, not you. Never you, my little vampire."

"I feel as if this is a dream." John said softly, pulling back but only a short bit away. "Rumors of your character, the things I have seen you say and do in court, and the feelings I see in the faces of your colleagues generally do not agree with this side of you." His tentatively reached up, his hand softly connecting with Mycroft's cheek. He smiled again.

"You are not wrong. I must be cold and calculating in court and with my coven. I must maintain the balance that is so carefully constructed like the spiders' web. However I am fond of you and as I confessed only moments ago have been for a long time. Sherlock has given you darkness and it has caused you pain, now you need tenderness to ease it. I did not consider myself capable of providing it myself which is why I left you in his care for the daylight hours, it seems I was terribly mistaken." He gently let his hand slide from cupping John's cheek to lifting his chin, pulling him slowly into another soft kiss.

He took his time, letting John ease into the moment before he pressed his tongue forward to part John's kiss bruised lips and give way to Mycroft's desire to explore him. John hummed softly as Mycroft leaned closer to him, a gentle dominance beginning to show in his movements. John could still feel the pain - unlike when Sherlock was with him, but the touches seemed to force his mind to focus on Mycroft. His mind was too overwhelmed to multitask in the moment. Mycroft seemed to understand because he shifted and followed as John lay back on the bed. He kept kissing him, their mouths working together in a slow but heated pace until John whimpered with desire. Mycroft pulled back and looked down at him, gently brushing his sandy hair from his eyes.

"Why does touch make the pain stop?" John asked quietly as he caught his breath, his eyes unbreakably locked with Mycroft's.

"It narrows your focus. Your body is overwhelmed with sensation right now much of it pain as the vampire blood converts your body into one of us. Sherlock was not wrong in wanting to love you in order to help you." He gently ran his hands over John's arms and chest, eliciting a soft sigh of pleasure from him. He closed his eyes and groaned.

"And the lust?"

"Ah," Mycroft said quietly and John slowly let his eyes open to see the slight blush on Mycroft's cheeks. "That is my fault. Since I gave you my blood while I was feeling arousal it will make you rather susceptible to what is called 'blood passion' for awhile." He cleared his throat. "It should subside by the time you and Sherlock return from your bonding in Paris."

"He tormented me, claimed me for what felt like ages, and yet I am burning again." He grabbed Mycroft's arm and pulled him down. "Touch me more, please."

"Oh John, my little one, you do not know what you ask of me." He whispered and leaned down letting their mouths connect again. Mycroft let his hand trail over John's neck, shoulders, arms, and chest. Offering fluttering touches that caressed his skin and his aura as they went. John groaned softly, trying to push up into Mycroft's touch but Mycroft simply held him in place. He cradled John's face again, his hand on John's right cheek, slowly pulling their lips apart. "I would love nothing more than to lay claim to you, my darling. Alas I cannot. You are Sherlock's mate and without him present I will not do anything to compromise that. Sleep now, let your body rest as it changes. I will stay here and hold you. When night falls and Sherlock returns together we will show you just how incredibly special you are." John whimpered again but Mycroft kissed him several times to silence his protests. He wrapped John in the blanket carefully, situating him against his own body and caressing his back until he felt him sink into a deep sleep.

Sherlock was going insane he could feel the lust in his mates' body, he could feel the tenderness, the ache that was growing. It was maddening. He was going to storm back into the chamber, he would have John for himself - but George stopped him again. Once Sherlock fed from one of the many servants the Holmes family employed to provide safe means for the coven to feed, George led him to his room and locked him in. He raged about for a few minutes before sinking down on the bed and letting out several tears of frustration.

"_Brother, do not anger yourself so. I have not violated your mate._" Mycroft's voice reached him as he lay back on his bed. He felt his mind slowly becoming his own again, the blood easing the feral creature within.

"_Is he injured?_"

"_No. He is not, thankfully. You lost control. This is the second time Sherlock. You cannot continue these dangerous experiments. You must feed as required! Sherlock, surely by now you understand he is a mender. A mender! He is a Solvanar, a mender, and he accepts you for who you are! Our kind has not had many competent healers since the war of the original covens. He is your mate! He is vitally important. Do you understand how close you came to losing him_? _How close __**we**__ came to losing him because of you?!_" Mycroft's voice was anxious and stern.

"_Losing him? He..._" Sherlock responded, furrowing his brow in confusion.

"_He is going through the change. You masked all his pain which meant that when your spell lifted he felt all of it at once! All that horrible pain, all at once. He is sleeping now, peacefully though he wanted me to make the pain stop. He wanted the tenderness you should have given him. However I respect you brother and I will not take your claim._"

"_Though you tried! I know about those requests Mycroft. I saw the memories of them in his blood. They were you were they not?_" Sherlock's voice was a low growl, he was tense laying in his bed. He drummed his fingers angrily against the table beside his bed, his attention focused and narrow. He slowly stopped and pulled his hands together holding them below his chin as he focused.

"_They were, however you also will notice that once I became aware of your connection I did not press the issue further. I respect the bond the two of you have, Sherlock. I know what it must mean to see that bond fulfilled. However I will promise you this right now, brother, if you do not cherish him I will._" Mycroft growled as he finished the words, tightening his arms around John protectively. John mumbled softly, so Mycroft pressed a gentle kiss to his head and caressed his arms to reassure him.

"_I will cherish him, if you allow me to._" It was a childish reply but Sherlock was angry and sulking.

"_Tonight we shall take him together. Rest now, when we drain him I want to see him pinned between our bodies. He will claim you and I shall take him._"

"_Claim... Me_?" Mycroft smirked at the glimmer of fear in his brother's tone.

"_Yes, you are his mate. Thus he should have an equal claim of you as you do of him, brother. So tonight we will show him what it is like to be loved by the Holmes brothers. It is only fitting that I should get to claim him at least once. You know he will be bound to me. Not as strongly as he is to you, however still bound to me. You should also know that I will always protect him and should anything happen to you I will keep him safe until you are able to protect him again. I will not let harm come to him._"

"_I suppose I owe you a thank you then._"

"_I suppose you do. Rest now._"

Mycroft woke John a few hours later and gave him another glass of the blood wine, several deep kisses, and comforting touches until he slipped back to sleep against him. He pressed gentle kisses over John's face, eyes, cheeks, and neck until he felt him slip back into that deep, dreamless sleep. He then stood and moved to the desk in the room. He began writing, formulating his strategies for John's training once he returned from his trip with Sherlock. It would be difficult for them to stage his absence without letting Moriarty and Sebastian Moran's coven know that he was gone, but it was important to do so. Sherlock was still young, wild, and untamed. He needed this bond finalized before they could move further - otherwise things would simply fall apart. He worked for an hour or so and then slipped back into bed beside John, pulling him close and dosing off until night fell.

"John?" Sherlock's voice was soft, he knelt beside the bed and gently, almost timidly reached out to touch his lover's cheek.

"There you are." John smiled warmly as he slowly pulled himself from his sleepy state. Mycroft gently released his arm from around John's waist.

"I am so very sorry." Sherlock whispered, looking down. John's hand found his cheek.

"It was not your intention, I understand. You have to feed more often." John said it as forcefully as he could, groaning as a wave of pain washed through him.

"I will, I promise." Sherlock smiled but his anxiety still rolled through both of their chests. John nodded understanding the feeling they were sharing and slowly sat up.

"You two look beautiful cuddled together, I am surprised by the sight." Sherlock whispered and smiled as John blushed.

"I do not feel worthy of all these attentions." John confessed.

"Oh but you are." Mycroft purred and kissed over the back of his neck. John groaned, falling back against Mycroft's chest.

"You are worth more than you know, my beloved." Sherlock smiled and he climbed into the bed with them, pressing passionate kisses to his lovers mouth. Kisses that pleaded for forgiveness even as they inspired lust.

"Oh..." John whimpered, weakly clawing into both of them. "Oh God..."

"Hush, my little one." Mycroft purred in his ear, leaning back to remove his shirt. "We have all night and you must give your blood to us again."

"Oh take it..." John whispered as Sherlock nipped his ear and neck.

"Do not be so hasty." Sherlock teased, slipping out of his dressing robe - which was all he was wearing.

"I can feel your need, the need in both of you." John whimpered, his eyes closed. Mycroft shifted out of his sleeping clothes and his under things so the three of them were naked in the bed together. John perfectly between them.

Sherlock pressed his body to John's front, their half hard erections contacting and making both of them moan loudly. Mycroft pressed against John from behind, moaning loudly as John instantly tilted his head to the side with a soft whimpering moan. Mycroft pressed his lips to John's neck, lathing attention over it as Sherlock again claimed his mouth. Both of them kissing him with slow burning heat. It did not take long before John was a mess of whimpers and moans, his hips bucking slightly into Sherlock's. Sherlock automatically responded, the two of them setting a hesitant and distracted rhythm as they tried to keep their mouths joined. Mycroft groaned and forced them to stop.

"John," He purred in his ear. "I want to take you. I want to take you while you take Sherlock. May I have your permission?" He caressed John's sides, waiting tensely for the answer. John's gaze flicked up to Sherlock's and silently he nodded his acceptance. John flushed.

"Oh God yes..." He whispered, clawing into Sherlock's legs.

"Sherlock lay down." Mycroft commanded. He picked up the oil and pressing himself back behind John, positioned him over his lover. "Here, prepare him." Mycroft purred in his ear, slicking oil over his fingers before guiding John's hand down and removing his own. John gasped and almost lost his focus when Mycroft's slick finger pressed against him. Sherlock whimpered as John groaned, their lust passing easily between them via their bond. John understood, Mycroft was going to show him how to properly do this. He took a shaking breath and gently pushed a finger against the tight, quivering ring of muscle that Sherlock seemed keen to hide.

"Come on my love, let me touch you." John purred, leaning down to kiss Sherlock as he finally pressed in. The two of them moaned loudly, the feeling growing and shifting between them until John was bucking back against Mycroft's hand and Sherlock was whimpering.

"More!" Sherlock demanded, arching his back off the bed.

"He is ready for more." Mycroft's voice rumbled against John's throat as John leaned up into his touch. Mycroft pressed another slick finger inside of John who shouted and mirrored every movement he made on Sherlock. "Oh you are such a perfect little caretaker." He purred the praises in his ear. John turned so he could kiss Mycroft hard, Sherlock groaning as he watched them. Seeing his lover under his brother's control was far more thrilling than it ought to be. John moved his fingers, bucking his hips without thinking. Sherlock whimpered.

"God this is torment!" He shouted.

"And yet you scolded your lover for being hasty. Calm yourself, brother - you must be properly prepared for someone as large as your mate." John shouted as Mycroft pushed a third finger into him and it took him a minute to recover enough to reciprocate on Sherlock.

"Oh! I feel like I am going to explode." John grunted, shaking from head to toe. His mouth fell to Sherlock's again as he leaned over him, grinding back onto Mycroft's fingers and pushing his deeper into Sherlock.

"Are you ready John?" Mycroft asked quietly and John simply shook his head. "Answer me." He growled, digging his nails into John's ass. John shouted and moaned.

"Yes, please take me. Please!"

"John!" Sherlock groaned. Mycroft smiled wider and positioned himself behind John guiding him into Sherlock. "Oh! It is so much!" His head fell back against the pillow as John sank into him fully. John groaned and whimpered before shouting as Mycroft pressed into him. Mycroft held him firm so he could focus on his cock buried in Sherlock and Mycroft's in him. His head went foggy and he moaned again as Sherlock shifted up slightly. There was nothing else in the world but the overwhelming sensation of being pinned between the brothers.

"Move." Mycroft commanded pulling back and then pushing forward so he drove John back into Sherlock. Both of them shouting in pleasure. John followed him eagerly, almost as if on command and gave Mycroft control of the situation.

Mycroft set the pace, a soft but determined speed that drove both of the lovers insane. Slowly he built John up and then stopped, forcing him to stop as well, before beginning again. Then just as he felt John's body begin to tighten he sank his teeth into John's exposed neck. John and Sherlock shouted as they tumbled over the edge together and within a few moments Mycroft followed behind, his mouth still latched onto John's neck. Sherlock sat up, gently letting John fall out of him before taking a spot on his chest to bite down and help Mycroft drink him. John sagged against them, his eyes again half closed and Sherlock carefully shifted him down onto the bed. Mycroft sliced his wrist open and pressed it to John's mouth groaning loudly as John eagerly began to drink. He let John drink for longer than the night before and slowly pulled away. Admiring him for a moment before leaning down to kiss his bloodstained lips. Sherlock tensed but allowed the kiss, knowing that jealousy of John's bond with Mycroft would become poison to their own bond. John clung to Sherlock's shoulder as he buried his face against his chest, panting for breath and struggling to remain awake.

"Sleep now little one," Mycroft whispered, caressing down John's back with his soft fluttering touches. "Sherlock will guard you now and I will return shortly. We will keep you safe."

"Do not stray far," John pleaded as he sank to sleep, Sherlock's arm tightly around him.

"_Oh he is such a precious soul, brother._" Mycroft's voice was a whisper. "_I shall return in only a few moments. I must go feed._"

"_I drank quite a bit, thanks to the order you gave George. I am safe now. Go and return quickly for as much as I don't like it he seems fond of you._" Sherlock sighed and ran his fingers through John's hair, smiling at the soft murmurs that came from his lovers lips.

"_I told you, I shall guard him if you cannot. I will treasure him for all the ages of the world. You do not understand the value of him, not the way I do. One wrong move from you and I shall not hesitate to take him. I will return._" Mycroft swept out of the room with the aid of George.

Sherlock whispered soft comforting words to John as he stroked his hair, two fingers gently tracing their way over his cheek. The smile on his face was one of pure adoration, one he reserved only for the most important of things. When Mycroft returned several minutes later he found Sherlock asleep, John against him, and that smile still on his brother's face. It pleased him to see such a smile on his brother's face but he noted the pain that crossed John's brow. John was awake, his eyes open and terrified. Mycroft sat down and John retreated to his arms, curling up like a kitten in his lap. Sherlock however did not wake.

"You are in pain." Mycroft said quietly and John shook his head slightly.

"It is too noisy." He replied hoarsely.

"Oh, my little one..." Mycroft said in a breathless voice. "The change moves quickly through you. Your body has changed and now your mind must catch up." He whispered the words, noting that Sherlock shifted but remained asleep. "Come, let us clean you up." He motioned to George who stepped into a large bathing room. It contained a large Roman style bath.

Mycroft had engineered it so that the cooking fire used to make food for the mortal servants and to heat the house ran underneath of it, making the tub maintain a warm temperature during the evenings. He gently cradled John in his arms as George returned with an elegant sleeping robe and draped it over a chair in the bath room. Mycroft nodded and George returned to Sherlock to guard him as he slept. Mycroft slowly set John in the tub before following him in, holding him close without doing anything else for the moment.

"Oh, it is warm." John said stupidly and Mycroft ran his fingers through his hair.

"This will be a tiring day for you, my little love." He whispered, slowly running water over his body. "Your mind must navigate how to adjust to your new senses and abilities. You may have nightmares, but Sherlock and I will keep you safe." He found one of his favorite soaps and took his time to lather John up, washing him gently as he did.

"Everything is bright and loud, except for you." John whispered, his hand gently coming to rest on Mycroft's cheek, his actions somewhat child like.

"What am I?" He asked his tone clearly amused and interested.

"Soft and beautiful." John blushed but kept their eyes locked. Mycroft couldn't resist and he leaned forward and kissed John passionately. John groaning as his back met the edge of the tub.

Mycroft set the soap down, his hands finding their way into John's hair and wrapping him in a strong embrace. He kept their mouths moving together, a sort of frenzied passion building between them as their bodies absorbed the warmth of the water and flushed with their efforts. Mycroft tugged on his hair, exposing his neck which he covered with kisses. A low feral sort of growl rumbled from John's throat as he first struggled and then consented to Mycroft's work. He groaned as his little fledgling gave him dominance and continued to kiss all over his neck, chest, and jaw before finding his lips and claiming them anew. He felt John's erection hardening between them and brushing against his own reawakened cock. It did not take long before the two of them were bucking against each other, their mouths moving furiously as they did.

"Mycroft..." John blushed and whimpered, causing him to stop.

"Yes my little mender?"

"Will you take me again?" He flushed red and Mycroft smiled. He pulled him up out of the tub and lay him on a rug on the floor, he retreated to the bedroom finding the oil and ensuring Sherlock was not laying there brooding. Sufficiently pleased his brother was still asleep, he returned to his groaning fledgling and coated his fingers and his cock with oil.

"Are you sure you want this, my little one?" Mycroft asked softly, leaning down to kiss him with a bruising force.

"Yes, please." He whimpered in reply, kissing him fervently. Mycroft pushed into him slowly, waiting until John whimpered to begin moving.

The sensation was overwhelming, John was so different than any other lover Mycroft had taken. So desperate for their mutual pleasure, so sensitive to touch... John keened and whimpered as he wrapped around Mycroft, letting him guide the pace. Mycroft went slowly, using every movement to seal inside John's mind and body the fact that no matter what he had a home in Mycroft's heart. He leaned down and pressed their mouths together again, keeping the contact until both of them began to shout. He slowed to a steady, feverish pace and worked in his little lover for what felt like an age. The moment stretched out and it was a long time before they both collided in a fierce kiss and rode the peak of their orgasm into a flushed silence. Mycroft slowly pulled out of John, panting a bit as he looked down into the eyes of his mender. John felt a soft moan rise in his chest at the look on Mycroft's face, it was so full of adoration - so pure it made him want to melt. It was startlingly different from how Sherlock looked at him and he found that love bubbled up in his chest for his Sire. He watched as Mycroft smiled, realizing that John finally accepted that no matter what Mycroft would always care for him. Mycroft slowly pulled him back in the tub, cleaning them both up before drying him off. He wrapped him gently in the elegant robe and carried him back to the bed where he placed him snuggly against Sherlock. John reached for him and Mycroft simply smiled, blowing out the candle beside the bed before slipping in the beside him. Sherlock's arm instantly moved to wrap around John which Mycroft mirrored thus securing John between his two lovers. John's last thought before he sank into a deep sleep was how beautiful it was having the love of not one but both the Holmes men and how eternity would not be long enough to treasure it.


	3. Unions

-Hello lovelies! I apologize for the delay! With the holidays, Series 3 premiering, and a new semester starting time got away from me! So here it is the next chapter. I'll try to have Chapter 4 to you all within the next week or so! -

Mycroft was the first to wake several hours after sunrise. He knew the time by the noise of the servants moving throughout the house. He slowly looked over and saw that Sherlock was also awake, his eyes focused on Mycroft with a sort of deep stare - as if trying to look through him. Mycroft bore his attention simply as he pulled himself out of the bed. John barely shifted, in a deep comfortable sleep as his body processed the next stages of his rebirth. Mycroft gently caressed John's cheek before pulling his dressing gown on. Sherlock sat up, noting that John barely registered his shift and pulled his own robe on. He stretched and Mycroft walked over to the desk area, sitting down in a large arm chair. Sherlock took the one across from him, both of them able to watch John.

"_You took him did you not?_" Sherlock's voice was tinged with jealousy as it echoed in Mycroft's mind. Sherlock could feel Mycroft's energy on John's body as he focused on his lover.

"_With his permission and at his insistence yes I did. Does that upset you, brother?_" His tone was smug as he turned to look at him. Sherlock put his hands under his chin as he was want to do when thinking.

"_It does, however I can easily see I have little choice in the matter. He is bonded with you and you would see that he accepts that bond fully. You seem woefully convinced I shall let him out of my grasp. He is my mate, Mycroft. Not yours._" His eyes flashed but his body language remained relaxed.

"_I am fully aware that he is your bondmate. I am also aware that you nearly killed him with jealousy and anger. Would you rather I maintain distance from him so that should something happen to you he is alone? Would that serve your heart better, my jealous brother?_" His tone cut and his eyes hardened as he turned to face Sherlock fully, so that his body now also face him.

"_You are mocking me and I do not appreciate it, Mycroft. You have had countless lovers. You have Anthea and George and when the occasion arises even the Duke visits with you. However it now seems you are set on having my mate as your own plaything. He is not a toy. He is not someone to be used for a century and then cast aside. A bond with you will only serve to hurt him in the end, mark my words._" John mumbled something softly, leaning over and pulling Sherlock's pillow to his chest before sinking back to sleep. Sherlock tensed and moved to stand but remained in his place when John did not move again.

"_He is free to choose his own path, brother. If he should wish to be a lover to us both you have no right to refuse him. I will never knowingly hurt him. You act as if you think my mate will suddenly appear and I will simply cast the little mender to the side. It shall never be as such. You shall have to learn to curtail this jealousy or it will be the death of you. Emotion such as those rolling through you now will lead to your downfall. Moriarty will seek to capitalize on your connection and if you can only act like a child whose toy is in another's grasp you will fall._"

John slowly woke because he felt like something was buzzing in his ears. He did not open his eyes for a long moment, letting his hearing take precedence. He could hear the footsteps of others above him, the sound of voices chattering away about nothing, and if he was not mistaken even the sound of the rain falling outside on the sidewalk. The bed felt different against his body, the elegant robe Mycroft had given him was soft and delicious against his sensitive skin. The pillow brushing his cheek felt strangely rough in places but soft in others. He could smell Sherlock and Mycroft, though their scents were faint and further away than he expected when he first woke. Each breath brought smells and tastes into his awareness until his brain seemed to be spinning with effort. He groaned softly only to find that two very different touches fell on his arm and back simultaneously.

"Are you in much pain?" Sherlock's voice was soft, his tone hummed. Never before had John truly understood the deep mahogany quality of it and he rolled the sound over and over in his mind for a long moment before speaking. He opened his eyes slowly and looked up into his lovers, noting how much more enchanting they were with his improved sight.

"No pain... Too much sensation." He replied gently, closing his eyes again.

"That is to be expected little one, I am glad however the pain has passed." Mycroft's voice was so different to Sherlock's and John's face betrayed him as he registered surprise. He rolled Mycroft's words over and over in his mind until he could easily separate out his tones from Sherlock's.

"Sound has feeling." John replied as an observation, rolling onto his back and looking at the two of them. "Colors are deeper, smells thick, and scents taste."

"Yes, my love." Sherlock smiled enjoying John walking through the change aloud. "Your senses are far beyond that of a mortal now. Tonight you will take your final drink from your Sire and when you awaken after that you will be a full fledgling."

"Which is where I should interject." Mycroft spoke softly but firmly. "You will have to remain inside this manor for the first month. While you get your feet under you as it were. The sun will weaken you too much initially for you to be able to adequately protect yourself. There is to be a dinner gathering at your Uncles near the end of the month, you and Sherlock will attend on our behalf and you shall, my little mender, ask your Uncle for permission to be courted by Sherlock. He will of course grant you permission and when you return I will have everything prepared for your journey to Paris." Mycroft helped John sit up as Sherlock adjusted the pillows for him. He slowly looked between them for a moment.

"You have been arguing again." His voice was quiet as he could not handle the loudness of it just yet.

"Why do you say that?" Sherlock asked quickly, cutting Mycroft off.

"I can see it in your faces. There is also a lingering sort of echo in our bond, a connection made between you two. I believe I felt it before when Mycroft was with me and you were in your room. You were speaking silently." John sounded thoughtful as he spoke, analyzing the feeling.

"Oh you are clever." Sherlock purred.

"I shall leave you in Sherlock's care for now. I must write to your family and ask them to pay us a visit tomorrow. We must discuss with them payment for your hand." Mycroft smirked and leaned forward, he kissed John passionately his pleasure growing as John made soft noises. The feel of their skin touching was even more intensely magnified than before he went to sleep. It stirred fire deep inside of his body. John groaned as Mycroft pulled away. "Do not fear my little vampire, I shall return." He grinned at Sherlock and swept from the room, Anthea meeting him at the door.

"He tries my patience." Sherlock whispered before leaning forward to claim his mouth in a soft kiss. "I am truly sorry for my behavior yesterday, my beloved." His voice was soft as he leaned their foreheads together. "It was unforgiveable and the fact that you grant me forgiveness proves you are far worthier than I am." He ran his hands up gently through John's hair, smiling as John let out a soft sigh of absolute pleasure.

"Oh that feels even more incredible." He closed his eyes, moaning softly. Sherlock only smiled and continued.

"I love hearing you describe how you're feeling." He smirked more, leaning in to press soft kisses over his ear.

"Oh Sherlock..." He moaned softly.

"You are tired still, are you not?" Sherlock leaned into him, pulling him close. "Let us rest more. Mycroft will return soon enough and he will stay with us through the evening."

"Are you not concerned about facing my family? They will believe you to be my fiancé."

"I do not care. They are not worthy of a man such as you. I will be yours and you will be mine." He nuzzled his face against John's cheek, enjoying the soft sighs.

They spent the whole of the day cuddled together. Mycroft eventually joined them and they all slept until well after dark. Sherlock woke first set immediately to work on bringing John into consciousness by planting kisses all over his body. John groaned loudly as Sherlock's lips and tongue flitted over his hips. Mycroft slowly opened an eye and grinned, seeing how John was already melting under Sherlock's work. He pulled John to him, kissing him deeply and ghosting his hands over his chest. John whimpered and gave in to their control, not fighting it. He moaned louder as they worked, Sherlock's mouth slipping over his awakening erection until he was achingly hard.

"Oh my God. That is so powerful.." John's head fell back as he lost his focus, the sensations overwhelming him.

"Just wait." Mycroft promised. He looked down at Sherlock who nodded eagerly. Mycroft handed him the oil and he prepared himself while Mycroft prepared John.

John whimpered, utterly unable to move. Simply writhing under Mycroft's work. He buried his fingers deep inside John's ass, scissoring and moving them until he was whimpering with need. Sherlock alternated between focusing on himself and letting his wicked tongue work on John's cock before Mycroft finally motioned to him. It took them some time but they arranged it so John was pinned between then again. John's cock buried to the hilt in Sherlock and Mycroft almost panting as he buried himself inside John. John shuddered almost violently when they both were seated in and on him and then groaned as they both began to move. He clawed Sherlock, his hands the only thing responding to his control as they drove him to a new realm of bliss. Every single touch, every breath, every sound felt so different. He felt like he wasn't even inside his body anymore. It was surreal. Sherlock's moans in one ear, Mycroft's groans in the other. They all vibrated in his body, forcing his own moans to become lower and more feral. He was desperate to release but fought it with everything he had, he fought it to keep feeling this incredible sensation. Mycroft let his lips find John's shoulders, growling with John as he nipped and licked a path up to his ear and back down again. Sherlock leaned back, moving his hips so that he drove John into Mycroft. Mycroft pushed back, alternating Sherlock's rhythm so that John felt like he was vibrating between them.

"Oh God... You are incredible." Mycroft purred in his ear.

"I cannot feel where I end and either of you begin. My skin feels like air." John panted in response.

"Are you ready?" Sherlock asked him, leaning up to kiss him.

"Yes, God yes." John pleaded. They both moved harder and he was finally able to help, grunting as he did. It was not long before he shouted their names so loud it echoed off the walls and released, just as Mycroft again sank his teeth into John's neck.

John shuddered as Mycroft released inside of him and Sherlock's thick seed spilled over their chests. Sherlock pulled him into a kiss, not drinking from him. Instead letting Mycroft finalize their bond completely. John did not go limp between them this time, though weakness did settle in. Sherlock watched transfixed as Mycroft turned John to face him and tilted his head, offering his neck.

"Feel it in your body," Mycroft whispered as a command. "Feel the hunger rise." His voice was low, purring against John's ear. John felt his focus narrow, all he could feel was the hunger. "Your teeth want to change, feel it." John closed his eyes and felt how his entire body forced his energy forward. Forced the need to focus. "Yes my little vampire, come on..." Mycroft groaned as John leaned forward and sank his teeth into Mycroft's neck. Both of them groaning deeply. Sherlock moaned lowly. John felt fire throughout his body and absently began moving his hips, Mycroft pumping into him with his still hard erection. "Yes, that is good. Keep going." Mycroft finally pulled back as they both shouted and released, John falling back against Sherlock.

"Oh he is perfect." Sherlock whispered in awe as John lay panting against him.

"He is complete. All that remains is your bond, however you cannot complete that now. We must speak with his family tomorrow." Mycroft stood and kissed John's forehead. He grunted and grabbed for him but he couldn't reach him. "No my little one. You stay and rest. Sherlock will protect you." Mycroft nodded to his brother. Sherlock pulled John to him and sank back against the headboard.

"You fed all on your own this time." He praised and John looked up at him with an eager and blush tinged face.

"Is it always so... Intimate?"

"For you it will be." He cupped his cheek. "Since my brother took your blood and gave you his during acts of arousal. Do not worry, I shall endeavor to make _very_ good use of that." Sherlock leaned over and kissed him hard, their tongues fighting for dominance. Sherlock growled lowly as he tasted his brother's blood in his lovers mouth.

"He claimed me as a prize, you let him." John teased, Sherlock grunted and pushed him down.

"I am well fed and strong, do not tempt my jealousy now." He warned but he kissed John again all the same.

"Reclaim what is yours." John begged, fire still raging in his veins. Sherlock leaned up to search his eyes before leaning back down and kissing him furiously.

"This appetite of yours will require some taming." He growled against his ear but he slicked his own hard erection with oil before slamming into John.

"You enjoyed watching me drink of him, did you not?" John demanded, groaning Sherlock's name. Sherlock moved slowly, painfully slowly - drawing out John's torment. "Sherlock!"

"Oh I did, however only in so much as watching you drink another's blood can be. I do not enjoy your bond with my brother. I also know I cannot stop it." Their lips met again with bruising passion as Sherlock slowly, painfully slowly worked in his lover.

"Oh God, you are a demon." John grunted, wrapping around him.

"Yours." Sherlock growled back, his breath washing over John's cheeks as he kissed over them. The urge to drink from John grew in his chest but he fought it, knowing John was not ready for that step. Their lust spiraled off the other, building in their bodies.

Sherlock kept their slow feverish pace and they went on for hours, the sounds of their moans echoing off the walls of the room as they tumbled over the edge of release again and again. Sherlock kept John awake and on the edge of reason until they both saw stars, collapsing in a sticky, sweaty heap and disappearing from the world for a long time. When their brains finally restarted it was all they could do to arrange themselves in some comfortable fashion and utterly collapsed. They sank to sleep almost immediately knowing they would absolutely have to bathe when they woke. Sherlock's arms protectively around his lovers body, clutching him tightly. John's face pressed to Sherlock's chest so their bodies wound together like the thread of their bond. The slept soundly, not waking until Anthea came to rouse them around lunchtime the next day.

"You two must get up now." Anthea said softly, grinning as she did. "And clean up. John's family is on their way to us and Mycroft demands you dress him to showcase his new nobility."

"As he wishes." Sherlock said in a grumbled voice, pulled John up and kissing him. "Come now my beloved, let me show you what it means to belong to a Holmes."

Sherlock and John bathed and pulled on their dressing gowns before Sherlock took John to his... No their room. He dug around in his closet until he found something that John could wear and helped him dress. John paused watching Sherlock look at him, Sherlock motioned to the mirror and John smirked as he looked over his reflection.

"Another carefully constructed falsehood." Sherlock barked, digging through his clothes.

"My skin is so clean." John whispered, touching his face. His eyes were glowing and the color of the outfit Sherlock picked made him look like a prince. The transformation had really made him beautiful if he did say so himself.

"You do look beautiful." Sherlock said quietly, smirking as John blushed.

"Ah yes I forgot, Sherlock Holmes is in my head now."

"Head, heart, soul, and bed." Sherlock corrected him, finishing dressing himself and coming to stand beside him. He fixed his hair and smiled. John returned the favor. "Ready to face your family?"

"They are family in word only. I shall only be sad to see my sister go."

Sherlock pulled John into a slow, passionate kiss just before Anthea knocked on the door. John opened it and stepped out. She smiled fondly at him, reaching over to gently push a piece of his hair into place.

"I am pleased you are one of us now." She whispered.

"It will be far easier to keep you healed." He smiled back.

She led the way down to the dining room where John could already hear the voices of his father, mother, and sister. When they entered the room it took all Sherlock had not to put his arm protectively around John and to remain somewhat distant. Mycroft smiled at John, giving him a look of pure heat. He obviously approved of Sherlock's choice of clothing.

"John, you look handsome." His mother spoke as she stood and hugged him. "We were worried. We had not heard from you in days."

"My apologies mother, I have been busy with my training. I was unable to contact you." John replied gently, her eyes going wide.

"He is an able and quick student." Mycroft praised, enjoying the slight flush on John's cheeks.

"He is already quite knowledgeable in many areas." Sherlock added. John looked up towards the door and tensed, drawing Sherlock's attention easily. Mycroft too felt the shift and looked up at his fledgling to read his looks.

"_Moriarty is here._" He didn't look at Sherlock, but his voice carried easily as it rippled through his mind. Sherlock was impressed with John's ability already, he had not expected John to be able to communicate without training. He did not know however that Solvanar training provided him an advantage to this new life. He looked to Mycroft who nodded that he understood.

"Ah, yes Lord Moriarty asked to accompany us to visit you." John's father spoke and motioned for the man to join them. "He had to attend to the carriage."

"I apologize for the delay, I was looking over your horses. Beautiful creatures." Moriarty grinned, his voice betraying a bit of his nature as he bounded into the room. "Lord Holmes, it is a pleasure." He said with forced sentiment, glaring at Mycroft. His attention then easily shifting to where John and Sherlock stood close enough together to provide a clue as to their relationship. "And my," He said with a smirk in his voice and a dark look in his eyes, "What a pretty picture you two are." He smirked again purring the words like a child at Christmas.

"And you as well." Mycroft said guardedly. "To what do I owe the honor?" He stood and moved forward so that he was between his brother and the intruder.

"I just wanted to ensure my future cousin was being _well_ taken care of." He replied coolly, his eyes flashing over John. John could feel the force of Jim trying to push his way into his mind but he easily repelled it. His pendant flashing slightly.

"I can assure you, Lord Moriarty, the Holmes have been pure gentlemen and have cared for my every need without me so much as considering a want for _anything_." John was definitely defensive but his tone was soft. His eyes firm and focused as he stood defiantly in the face of danger.

"I am rather impressed." His mother spoke quietly. "The changes in your manner so far are incredible," She sighed. "You have become so refined in so short a period." Her tone was curt, disbelieving, and John flushed just slightly.

"Yes, he learns quickly when given proper motivation." Mycroft's tone was cool, defending John easily. "I was not wrong to find favor in his desire for knowledge and I am most pleased to see that the Duke has an accurate impression of his potential."

"Yes, he does rather favor the little one, doesn't he?" Moriarty grinned.

"Quite." Mycroft's mouth thinned into a small line, focusing his attention on John's parents.

"So John, does this mean you will not be returning home?" His father asked softly, seemingly confused.

"It is my intention to remain here so long as the two Lords shall let me. I have much to learn from them and no usefulness at your manor." He snapped, his tone dark.

"What of your social requirements?" His mother demanded softly, looking upset.

"Well that is quite the right moment for me to interrupt I believe." Mycroft smiled but it came off as somewhat dark, his attention turning to John's father directly. "You see Lord Watson it has come to my attention that my younger brother has rather taken an interest in your only son. As my brother has spent the whole of his life choosing to ignore the attentions of others this makes your son rather important in the scheme of my brother's life. Naturally that makes it of utmost importance that I work with you to secure John's hand for my brother's taking." John's sister smirked just slightly, hiding behind her handkerchief as Moriarty glared at John. Her pleased smile was the only one they got, instead his mother looked livid.

"I should think the Duke…" Moriarty began, John tensing as he did.

"Would ask John and his family first," Mycroft chided, cutting him off. "As you can clearly see the young Lord Watson's disposition is welcoming of my brother's intentions. So once we know where you stand, Lord Watson," Mycroft looked directly at John's father. "I may send word to the Duke to secure his."

"You wish to marry my son?" The man asked Sherlock who simply nodded before stepping forward and looking at him directly.

"I have prided myself the whole of my life in never holding the smallest of affection for another outside of my own family. It was on the whole the mark of my character and I was quite proud of the reputation it gave me in court. However I came to find that I have never in my life met someone so amazing as he. I want nothing more than to spend the rest of eternity at his side, learning to understand this fascinating creature." John blushed and Sherlock smirked as he turned back to let his gaze burn into his lovers. "I ask you now for his hand, however I shall endeavor to kidnap him should you say no."

"That won't be necessary," He laughed. "I know fair well that John has had an interest in you for some time now. You have my approval." He smiled at John, offering only a nod.

"Well, that settles that much easier than previously expected. I am pleased you all decided to call on us today. Most excellent," Mycroft smiled. "We shall send his dowry to you this afternoon. Now, would you like some lunch?"

"No, I am afraid we cannot stay. We have an engagement." John's mother spoke as she stood. It was clear she was greatly displeased but could not overrule her husband. "Lord Moriarty is throwing a small get together at our home." She said it bracingly silently acknowledging that the Holmes brothers were not invited to set get together.

"Ah well I do rather appreciate you taking the time to come visit us here then." Mycroft offered simply, his tone betraying his anger at the way John's family was simply dismissing him. His mother took Moriarty's offered arm and swept from the room without so much as a word to her son.

"Be well." John said softly, his face tight.

"And you." His father nodded softly, with a sort of look of defeat as he followed them.

"John," His sister said softly, clasping his hand. "Congratulations, I am happy for you. He is the only one worthy of you." She whispered hurriedly before racing after the others. John sank down into a chair and sighed, his face in his hands. Sherlock could feel the sea of emotion passing easily over their bond and it worried him. He moved over and put his hand on his lovers' shoulders.

"What is it, love?" He asked quietly.

"My family of course." He said quickly but both brother's fixed him with a piercing and knowing stare. "Alright, I just recalled when I first met Jim Moriarty. He is far more dangerous than you know." John whispered, one hand wrapped around his shield. "He's a Solvanar." He looked up at them.

"He is?" Mycroft sat up, looking at John eagerly. Sherlock's interest was also clear on his face as he took a seat in front of John.

"There is a history within the Solvanar that most the world does not know. A secret history that has been kept from the world in order to protect the ideals that founded the secret city." John whispered, bouncing his leg as he spoke. "You know there were twelve families that founded the city of Solvanar. Twelve vampire men who were given twelve mortal women to found the Solvanar bloodlines. However only seven families remain within the city. Five of the families have been banished for crimes against the Blood Concordance, never to be allowed back. Four of the families united together in the belief that they should forsake their vampire blood and willingly chose to leave the confines of the city. They believe that they should turn their back on their ancestors and thus become mortal throughout the years. That being a descendant of a vampire was akin to being evil. They established a city on the northern end of our land that is the only location where Solvanar families meet and where information passes to and from the city. Their attitudes have tempered some over the years but they are the bloodlines of the hunters. They have given themselves two missions; the first is to protect the sacred city from outside threats and the second is to eradicate all vampires. They call themselves righteous and believe they are doing the work of God." He sighed again. "The other group the five family forbidden from the city... They are those that have fallen from the grace of the Solvanar. Their blood is dark and tainted. They are corrupt and greedy. It is to this group Moriarty belongs. Specifically to the lead family of which the patriarch..." John looked momentarily uncomfortable. "Is Lord Moran. Moriarty is a Rowan Solvanar. The Rowan are the royalty of the fallen, they believe that vampires and mortals are pets to be ruled. That we are the superior race and deserve to have slaves of mortal men and vampires. It is they who collect our kind and keep them as pets." He growled lowly as he spoke and jumped up out of his chair to pace. Sherlock's eyes following him intently as he moved.

"There is caution in your words." Mycroft said softly, crossing his legs and placing his fingers together in front of his chin. His eyes burning into John's. "There is more to this story than you are telling us now." John sighed and looked at Mycroft as if appraising him for a long moment.

"She told me to never tell." He mumbled to himself, clutching his pendant. He paced silently for a few moments before deciding that he needed to tell Mycroft and Sherlock the whole truth. That the only way to protect his family would be to be honest. "The Matriarch of my clan told me never to reveal this secret to anyone outside our line, however it is possible that Moriarty has been sent by someone who knows the truth. There are a few of the older Solvanar that know the secret of the city." He sighed and put a hand over his pendant, there was a whisper of magic through the room and when he removed his hand the pendant was markedly changed. It now bore two intersecting but different sets of knot work and a fire opal set in the top near the chain. "I am not solely an Oaken Solvanar." He stopped, looking at them both. "To understand what I mean I must give you a bit more of the history of the breaking of the twelve." He sighed taking a deep breath. "There was a civil war in Solvanar. It is what lead to the three lead families, the Elder, Yew, and Oak removing the others from the city. As you know Mycroft, the Solvanar family lines work in very specific and usually predictable ways. The vampire patriarch wed the mortal matriarch and they had children. Always female. Those children, specifically the eldest child would then wed another man and it was her choice to choose a vampire or a mortal. They would also bear female offspring. That third generation would then choose their mates. So long as the mortal woman chose a mortal man it is then possible for her to bear a male child. If she chooses a vampire she will simply continue the cycle of female begetting female. It came to pass that one of these third generation women in the Elder line chose a vampire male as her mate. She became pregnant however instead of bearing a child as predicted she bore twins. Two girls, identical in almost every way. So the Elder family decided that it was time to unite the three. Each girl was promised in marriage to the eldest son of that generation of the Yew and Oak families. Resulting in two mixed lines. My ancestor Airvae chose to become a vampire shortly after his twentieth year. His wife, the daughter of Elder chose not to accept the gift of eternal life. So he protected her and fathered our line but allowed her to pass to shadow when her death came. It is because of the blending of the abilities of the two lines that I am a mender. My sister was as well." He sighed, sitting down. "It is also why we were twins."

"What difference does it make that you are born of two lines instead of one?" Sherlock asked quietly.

"It makes all the difference in the world. It is only within the last two generations that my line has finally expanded beyond the borders of the city. The fallen families wish to collect us and the hunters to destroy us for our mixed abilities. The only reason I have been kept safe is that they all believe I am dead. They believe that the Rowan's killed me years ago."

"Why the Rowan?" Mycroft's voice was soft and thoughtful. Sherlock had begun to pace.

"Lord Moran and I have... A history." John added, looking away from Sherlock as he growled.

"A history?" Mycroft demanded. John looked away, clearly upset.

"Yes a history, as in it is passed. Beyond our life now." He didn't want to talk about it but neither brother was willing to let it go. Mycroft swept over to John, boxing him in using the chair to gain leverage over him.

"Out with it my little mender." Mycroft said gently, moving to cup his cheek. Sherlock froze.

"He..." John's gaze was irrevocably held by Mycroft's and the truth was forced from his throat. "He also wanted my hand. He sought it more when I was younger." His voice was timid, like a child's.

"When did he seek you?"

"When I first found out my history. He wrote to my Grandmother. She refused." John felt himself slip back to normal as Mycroft looked away and he shuddered.

"By Grandmother you mean the Matriarch of the Elders?" He demanded curtly.

"Yes. I do." Another sigh. "Moriarty wants Sherlock, Moran wants me."

"For your abilities." Mycroft conceded, crossing his arms and leaning back as he sat back down.

"Yes." John tensed and stood up. "I think I require more rest." Mycroft simply nodded.

"I'll send a messenger to the Duke in a short while. He will likely reply with haste and once we have received his word we will begin your preparations for your holiday in Paris. I believe a slight change of plans is in order, we shall have your public marriage before you go. You two will then go to Paris to celebrate on your own. Then you will return here and we shall proceed forward. We must be mindful to watch out for Moriarty, he is planning something."

"He tried to enter my mind, which he has never been able to do."

"He tried before?" Sherlock demanded, stopping his pacing again.

"Yes, when we met in the mortal Solvanar shortly after my tenth birthday." John frowned.

"So there are mind links for the Solvanar?"

"Yes, it is due to our vampire heritage." John smiled at his lovers confusion. "It is very normal."

Sherlock walked over and wrapped John in his arms, kissing him deeply. He then nodded to his brother before escorting John from the room. Mycroft didn't see them again for three days and when he finally was able to get them to leave Sherlock's bedroom it was clear the two would be utterly inseparable. He smiled at them as they both came to rest before him in his study.

"You summoned us?" Sherlock pouted.

"Yes, I am afraid I had to call you from your thrilling bout of doing nothing because the Duke has responded. He gives his blessing to your marriage and has called for a dinner in your honor this evening. The three of us shall be going, then tomorrow we shall finalize the plans for your ceremony. It is my hope that within a fortnight you two will be on your way to Paris.

And so it was. That evening they went to dinner with the Duke, where Moriarty made it quite clear that he did not approve of their engagement. Lord Moran made an appearance but John was saved any interaction from him by the presence of his sister, who refused to part from his side for a moment. Comfortably entertained by his fiancé and his sister John passed the time easily. Their wedding was quickly arranged and just over two months after his rebirth as a vampire John Holmes had his lover all to himself in the rich trappings of a French manor. His head was still swimming from all of it, the fancy ceremony, the all too fake tears from his mother, and the overwhelming feeling of dread when he saw the look on Moriarty's face gnawing away at his stomach.

"_Why is your mind so far from me, my love_?" Sherlock's voice hummed in his mind. They'd just woken from their first full day in Paris.

"_I am sorry my love, things have transpired so quickly._" He replied softly, reaching up to touch Sherlock's cheek.

"You'll forget the world soon enough," He promised, rolling them so he was above his lover. They were almost completely naked, which Sherlock used to his advantage. His mouth finding purchase on every inch of John's skin he could reach. John groaned, arching up into his touch. "Now that you're strong enough and we're far from my scheming brother I can finally bond with you properly." He spoke, his words vibrating against John's skin. John could feel his aura as Sherlock's magic opened to him, begged John's to merge with it, to give in. "_We are going to bond on every level. For all the ages of the world. Our souls will share the same connection, in every life I will find you."_

"_Oh Sherlock,_" He groaned as his body felt like it became smoke. Sherlock felt like he was melting into him.

"_I am going to drink of you, finally..._" The greed and lust in his voice was unmistakable. "_Then you will drink of me. For three days we will share in each other's essence until we are one._" His lips found John's and claimed them heatedly, bruising pressure forcing John harder into the mattress and making his mind flutter into silence.

"_Yes, Sherlock, please._" He whimpered, wrapping his hands in those dark locks. Sherlock kissed down over his jaw and onto his neck, bathing the pulse point with kisses and nips until John was keening for more. He was desperate for this, for this bonding. The one he thought he would always reject with all his heart. John wasn't like anyone else, he wasn't like any other creature Sherlock had met in the world. He was different. Sherlock fished around the table finding the oil and preparing his eager love.

"_Oh you are still so tight for me. I am going to claim you again. If you think our wedding evening was exhausting you have no idea what lies in store for you, my beloved._" Sherlock smirked as John mewled and moaned, pressing into his fingers eagerly. He'd denied his lover this for days now, wanting every sensation to be extraordinary as they crossed this boundary.

"_Oh God! I have never felt fire like this inside my body. Your magic is enveloping mine._" John whimpered, desperately trying to bring Sherlock's mouth to his own. Sherlock only relented when John was reduced to whimpers, claiming his mouth as he pushed a third finger into his lover to spread him wider. John clawed into his back and arched, losing himself in Sherlock's mouth as Sherlock reached down and stroked his awakening erection gently.

"_There is no going back from here, John. After this for all the ages of the world, for all of time you are mine and I am yours. In this life and the next._" John groaned, his toes curling as Sherlock slowed to a brutally teasing pace.

"_I want that. I want to belong to you forever. I want you to belong to me. In all the ages of the world. In all lives._" He promised, his breath ragged in his chest.

"_Then give yourself to me and let us bond._" Sherlock commanded, he moved up - slicking oil over his cock before burying himself in John. He groaned John's name as he slowly slid his hips back and forth, pumping through John's clenching muscles as John arched and moaned under him. He leaned down so as much of their skin as possible was touching, kissing John deeply until he broke the kiss panting for breath. He turned his head, his neck easily exposing itself to his hunger.

"_Drink me_." John almost commanded and Sherlock's fangs almost arrived without his input. He guided his hand under John's head, cradling it lovingly as he slowly sank his teeth into him. John gasped loudly as Sherlock increased the pace, his head going foggy as John's blood spilled into his mouth.

Their arousal grew steadily, driven on by the stirring of John's magic transferring in his blood into Sherlock's body. Sherlock could feel it melding with his own, changing it. He slowed his hips, drawing out their pleasure and denying both of them the orgasmic high they'd been circling to allow John his turn. He held his wrist up to John who eagerly bit into it and drank from him, the sensation overwhelming Sherlock for a long moment. Their bodies moved in perfect sync with each other as Sherlock leaned down and bit into John's chest creating a circuit of sorts between them as they both drank and gave to the other. Sherlock's pace increased until it was punishing and when they both thought their bodies would utterly shatter they tumbled over the edge shouting each other's name. Sherlock collapsed down on John, his hot seed causing him to moan as it contacted his cool skin. Their lips met frantically, fighting and claiming the breath from the others lungs as they slowly stopped trembling. Their ragged breaths the only sound in the room for a long time.

"_I feel you everywhere._" John forced out, his voice trapped in his throat. "_I feel you inside my mind, my heart, my soul, my magic, my blood, my body..._" He panted, his eyes locking with Sherlock's.

"_We are between the worlds now, as it were._" Sherlock's voice was ragged but soothing. "_Locked in the bond state until the ritual is completed. That is why my brother sent Anthea here with us. She is our protector as we are vulnerable now. For three days we shall drink of each other and share this space and when we return to the world we left, we will be changed._" He pressed shaking kisses to John's cheeks as he slowly slid out of him, collapsing on the bed beside him.

"_You never wanted this with anyone else, why me?_" John asked quietly. His attention fully shifting to Sherlock.

"_You are my mate. The only person in the world in whom this thread lives. You are also the most fascinating and wonderful man I have ever known. Though no one would seem to know that looking at you from the outside. The things they say about you in court as so rude, so incredibly unflattering that I knew there must be a man beyond comprehension behind them._" His eyes shifted slightly, as he cuddled closer. "_When we met in the market I was not entirely sure what to make of you. However once I came home and realized what chemicals you had in your possession when we collided, I decided then in that moment you were too dangerous a preoccupation. Vampire medicines in your mortal hands..._" He chuckled softly and John blushed.

"_Your kin kept coming to me demanding that I heal them. I could not say no, otherwise you would only have yourself and your brother left._"

"_Ah yes, I know Anthea was a regular of yours. It was her that told me of your research and offered to bring you the replacements I sent you. The more I saw you at social gatherings or other courtly events I grew more fascinated. You were always observing the scenery, the location, and the evening rather than the people. I was drawn in to you before I realized what was occurring. The night I saw you that Moriarty tried to take you I had intended to ask you for your hand. Time was not on our side._"

"_And yet here we are._" John smiled, his eyes fluttering closed.

"I love you." Sherlock replied.

"And I, you." He whispered as they sank into a strange sleep, plagued with dreams.


	4. Shadows

I am SO SO SO sorry this chapter has taken so long! Life decided it was more important. Stupid life, who gave you permission! School and work have been crazy but hopefully things will be a bit calmer for awhile (and Spring Break is just around the corner!). I am hoping to have the next chapter out within a week (it's written in my head just have to get it down on paper).

Also if you're interested in teasers/updates on my writing status check me out on tumblr: hollyglow dot tumblr dot com

Some important answers to important questions I have been asked:

1 - Why didn't we see the wedding? I decided to skim over the wedding in the previous chapter because this is all really back story. This is all nitty gritty to get to the really good stuff in the modern BBC era. Don't worry there will be a wedding, it will be fluffy and sappy, and it will get more time than this one did.

2 - Will we see Sherlock teaching John to use his powers? Not yet. As it mentions in the tags there is a major character death/rebirth going to happen and Sherlock's behavior is sort of tied to that. So you will, just not yet.

3 - JohnCroft or JohnLock? The plan (as far as the boys are telling me NOW) is to end up with JohnLock and Mystrade in the Modern Era. That said I know there is a lot more JohnCroft to be had in the time leading up to then, Mycroft is being particularly Alpha/Pack leader like, and Lestrade hasn't been entirely clear on his motives yet - so let's just see where they lead us, eh?

4 - MorMor - MorMor is not really a romantic couple in this case. It's a sire/fledgling bond and Moran is not really too thrilled with his fledglings plans and behaviors.

5 - Series 3 - So here's the thing. I enjoyed Series 3, I think it gave my little JohnLock brain a lot more material to work with and several more fears to consider but it will NOT be a part of this story with any relation to the way it occurred in canon. Just in case you haven't seen it I shall leave no spoilers here for you, but some events will be included (cases, villians, etc) but John/Mary will be temporary if at all and their canon story will not evolve the same here. 

* * *

Anthea paced slowly back and forth outside the door to the bedroom that for the last week had served as the secret den of the two newly wedded Holmes men. Sherlock and John had barely been seen since they arrived in France. A fact which she knew was not uncommon for bonding but one that was beginning to grate on her nerves. She had been sent to protect them during their bonding state which should have reached completion four days previously, now she was simply bored. Having decided she had, had enough of their games she went to open the door when a loud moan from inside stalled her hand. She sighed in pure frustration and walked down to the end of the hall, settling back down on her chair. Inside the bedroom, in the failing light of the afternoon, Sherlock was enjoying himself as he tormented his still half asleep husband.

"Sherlock!" John shouted as Sherlock nipped at his neck and chest. He'd been completely asleep having a strange dream when he felt Sherlock press two well slicked fingers into him. Then Sherlock's lips had been on his own, kissing him until his head swam with arousal.

"_Yes, my love?_" Sherlock's voice was teasing as he worked his fingers deeper and deeper inside him.

"_Oh God! You demon!_" John pushed back down onto Sherlock's fingers, whimpering as he did. He was already overwhelmed by their arousal, it thrummed in his chest and through every level of their bond. "_Take me!_" He commanded. Sherlock smirked and kissed him until he couldn't think straight.

"So eager." He purred against John's lips as he slowly coated himself with oil and pushed his way into his lover.

There was no haste in this moment, only the two of them and all the ages of the world. The two of them were beginning to feel more like themselves, so haste was no longer necessary. The ethereal whispers of the bonding state giving way to the earthy mortal realm. Sherlock set a desperately slow, feverish pace; their mouths struggling to stay together as their breath grew ragged and heavy. Sherlock locked his hands with John's, pushing them up towards the head of the bed, using his own body to lift John's hips slightly and change how he was pushing inside him. John shouted in his mouth and groaned, desperate for the release Sherlock was denying him. Sherlock kept John pinned under him, building the fire inside their bodies steadily but slowly until hours after dark had completely fallen they finally crashed over the edge. John panted for breath, silence descending around them and their eyes locked and burning together. Both of them utterly boneless and wrecked from such a powerful release. Sherlock smoothed gentle kisses over John's face, eyes, and mouth apologizing for tormenting him but not really meaning it. Anthea gave them an hour to recover before loudly knocking on the door.

"I am _terribly_ sorry to disturb you two," She shouted through the door, "However you have not fed in three days and there is someone here to see you."

"Someone here to see us?" Sherlock asked John, but John had tensed slightly. He closed his eyes and let his senses reach out, a small growl coming from his throat. "Do not growl like that unless you want me to claim you again." Sherlock growled himself, claiming John's mouth in another bruising kiss. John kissed him back deeply and they were in danger of slipping right back into their sexual contest before John's logic kicked in.

"It is Lord Moran." John responded and Sherlock tensed anew. They reluctantly pulled themselves up out of bed. He watched John as he hesitantly moved around the room, seemingly quite concerned about their guest.

"We are on our way." Sherlock sighed and Anthea's footsteps could be heard heading away from the room.

They cleaned up and dressed, Sherlock enjoying how John was still so pleased by his new clothing and enjoying how well it framed his husbands' body. They shared another deep kiss before Sherlock opened the door to find Anthea waiting with two of their feeders. The two fed deeply, and though Sherlock sensed the rise of lust within his husband he also felt how John was beginning to control it. They both adjusted their clothing and prepared themselves to head down the stairs and face Lord Moran, who was pacing the length of the dining room, waiting for the two Holmes men to join him. He was crisply dressed in a dark red outfit that looked like it belonged to an age gone by. His dark brown hair and brown eyes flashed around the room as he felt the flutter of energy that signaled the two coming closer to him. He closed his eyes for a moment, his mind stalling as want of seeing John filled his chest. It had been many years since he'd had anything other than cold distance and fear from him. He hoped now that would be different. He forced himself to let those thoughts go as he heard their footfall in the hall. He looked up, his eyes easily attaching themselves to John and taking in how well he looked in his new vampiric state and noble dress. John's outfit was a dark blue, which brought out his eyes and the cut was perfect for his form. He looked more striking than Sebastian had ever seen him look. Sherlock saw Sebastian's lingering gaze and let out a soft, animalistic growl which only grew darker when he saw that John blushed. Sherlock wrapped his arm tightly around John's waist and Sebastian took the hint.

"Good evening, Lord Sherlock and Lord John. I do apologize for disturbing your celebrations," He added softly, he was going to continue but John cut him off.

"It is pleasant to see you, Lord Moran. To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?" John asked and bowed softly. Sebastian coughed gently, perhaps blushing. Sherlock's features tightened as John motioned for Sebastian to take a seat and took one himself.

"Sebastian will do well enough for you, little mender." He said softly, Sherlock's eyes darting back and forth between them. John blushed again. Which Sherlock did not like, he was confused and angry. He slipped his arms down over the chair, tightening them a bit on John's shoulders. Draping himself territorially around John.

"Very well then. Why are you here Sebastian?" John asked quietly.

"I was unable to speak with you during your wedding celebrations and thus was unable to convey some things to you that I wished to. Then I heard you were traveling so I was certain I would be unable to for some time. However when I arrived here last week to visit some of my kin I was happily informed that you were here also." He sank down into the chair across from John, surveying him. "I must say, John, this life suits you magnificently." He smiled motioning to John's form and Sherlock could see the Solvanar shield around Sebastian's neck. Sherlock tensed but John gently placed his hand on Sherlock's to try and calm him.

"And what did you wish to convey?" John asked in a curious voice, not fighting the blush that rose at Sebastian's insinuation.

"First and foremost my congratulations. You have chosen an apt mate who is as deserving of you as I think any could be. Secondly to swear an oath to you that I shall do all I can to prevent your happiness from being damaged. You and I have had a tenuous friendship at best over these last several years but I wish to see it strengthened. I know why you have maintained your distance and I truly accept fault for it. However I also have become aware that Moriarty intends to obtain your mate for his own. He has his sights narrowed on your husband and I swear to you now I shall do all I can to ensure that his actions do not bring you or him harm. I will do all I can to ensure that your safety is never compromised and your happiness remains." Sherlock was completely confused now, his face betraying him. Sebastian was rather surprised that John had obviously not told them their history but simply smiled as John flushed rather red.

"There is no need for all of this Sebastian. I have told..." John began but Sebastian cut him off, leaning slightly forward.

"No, I owe _you_ more than I can ever repay, _little mender_. I owe you a grave debt, John. You still seem not to grasp that I would have lost my entire coven, my whole family. Thus far you have refused every method of repayment I have offered. And though I believe all means I have at my disposal are not enough to repay the debt owed to you, I believe I have finally found something you will accept. I have spent many a night wondering what I may offer you, that you may finally accept, and this is the solution. I am quite certain you will accept this offer." He slowly reached into his coat and slipped out a parchment envelope, sealed. He held it out to John, "Give this letter to your clan father, to Lord Mycroft. It is an offer of truce between our clans, guaranteed so long as _you_ are safe. If you are well cared for than I shall offer my assistance in any situation he requires and guarantee I shall not myself nor allow any of my kin to harm a member of your family without retribution." His face darkened just a bit but softened as John reached out and timidly took the envelope, still blushing.

"Sebastian," His voice cracked slightly but he firmed himself. "Moriarty will not rest." His voice betrayed his fear. Sherlock was surprised that John was afraid and his hold softened slightly on his shoulders.

"He is my fledgling, little mender, leave him to me." He ordered gently. "He was just as saved by your hand as the others, he owes you a debt he does not realize. I will do all I can to protect you." He smiled as John seemed to relax just a bit. "Lord Holmes," Sebastian said a bit more firmly as he looked up and their eyes met. Both of them tensing and glaring at the other. "You have acquired an exceedingly rare treasure in this little mender. I trust you shall never forget that or else I shall endeavor to see him removed from your side and placed beside someone more worthy." His voice was soft but held the growl of promise.

"I shall never forget. Nor should you forget that he is _mine_." Sherlock growled in response.

"For the moment." Sebastian said coyly as he stood. "Be well gentlemen, I am sure we shall meet again in England." He nodded curtly and swept from the room.

John took a slow shaking breath that hitched when Sherlock suddenly swept around and caged him in the chair. Sherlock's eyes burned into his, seeking answers to thousands of unanswered questions as his rage built and swirled in his eyes violently. Sherlock leaned forward and claimed John's mouth in a furious kiss, full of possessive passion. He straddled John in the chair, one hand finding its way into his hair and pulling his head back for better access. Sherlock forced his tongue into John's mouth, claiming him and not caring who might be near them to see. He kept kissing him, his aura pushing down on John's until John's entire body felt like it was no longer solid. Sherlock growled darkly against his mouth and clawed into his sides as he slid their bodies together and forced John to relent to him.

"_You're mine_." Sherlock's voice growled in John's body.

"_Y-Yes, Sherlock. Only yours._" John's voice was breathless as he panted and shook. Sherlock finally releasing him and pulling off of his lap. John shivered slightly as he pulled away and slowly lowered himself down into the chair across from John, taking Sebastian's abandoned seat.

"Well, that was certainly an interesting visit." He growled.

"Y-Yes it was." John muttered his head still swimming. "An alliance with another family... Does our family even make those?" John was fingering the envelope gently, absentmindedly. His body thrumming with desire for Sherlock.

"We have before, but those clans became a part of something larger and the alliances fall away. Our clan mother has long since gone to rest, so many alliances are not offered our way." He sighed.

"So she is alive but sleeping?" John asked but Sherlock knew he was deflecting the moment he had to confess to the question lingering before them.

"So, when are you going to tell me about this yet to be revealed history with the Moran family?" He demanded, crossing his legs and putting his hands together near his chin.

"Sherlock, Mycroft is going to demand this same story from me. Instead of repeating myself may we please simply enjoy the last portion of our time here? I shall explain it all when we return home, I swear it." John asked softly, clearly afraid.

"If we must, but you must tell me right this moment - do you wish to be with him?"

"Of course not!" John exclaimed, standing and moving over to pull Sherlock up. "You are my mate, Sherlock. You, no one else." He promised, kissing him.

They remained in Paris for only another week because Sherlock was far too determined to know what it was that John was hiding. In fact he denied John any physical comfort until they were preparing to return home, using their bond to get what he wanted. When they returned home to England early it surprised Mycroft. Mycroft was however pleased to see them and if he was truly honest especially pleased to see John, as he'd found he'd actually missed him.

"And so comes my brother and _my_ little mender." He purred as they entered his study, but he looked up to survey them closely. Sherlock's face was dark and brooding. Mycroft knew it would be only a matter of time before he sank into one of his 'dark moods.' "You've come home early and directly to me upon your arrival which can only mean something of import has happened." He motioned for them to sit, which John did not do. Sherlock threw himself angrily down on the couch as John timidly handed him the letter. Mycroft looked up between the two of them as he saw the writing on the envelope.

"What a frightfully interesting trip we have had, my brother. Did you know that Lord Moran visited us in Paris?" Sherlock snapped, enjoying the darkness that fluttered over his brothers features. At least Mycroft would commiserate with him.

"Lord Moran?" Mycroft's tone was clearly incredulous.

"Oh yes, brother. He wishes to have a _truce_ between our families." He snorted. Mycroft's brow furrowed further and he looked to John who was blushing and looking rather sheepish.

"A truce?" Mycroft's tone was clear.

"Yes, he called on us in Paris and asked me to deliver that to you." John said motioning to the letter. John was afraid, his voice shaking slightly. The anger of the two Holmes men was palpable.

"A letter to _us,_ from Lord Moran?" Mycroft looked utterly annoyed, believing the two of them were playing some sort of cruel trick on him. When neither of them seemed to cave he sighed and looked over the envelope. He unsealed the letter and read aloud: "Lord Mycroft, I am sending this letter to you in the only hands I can trust," Mycroft quirked an eyebrow as John flushed a bit, John looked pointedly away from Sherlock which served only to anger him more. "I am seeking a truce between our clans in the name of John Hamish Holmes nee Montiere. Well as you know him Watson, but we both know that is not his birthright. I seek this in his name as he is dear both to my coven and to myself and we wish to ensure that the health of the family who has his protection as their goal is protected and his happiness is maintained for the whole of the world. This will likely be of some confusion to you as you may not know all of his history, however I owe him a debt greater that I shall ever be able to repay without making a move such as this. I do hope that finally he accepts this as a step towards repaying the insurmountable debt I owe him. Lord Mycroft, our families have had little quarrel over the course of your life amongst our kind. However, there has been much tension between our families since our arrival in the courts in England. I wish to seek end to that tension. The safety of the mender John, his mate, and his family are now a priority for me and as such I hope you will send a favorable response to this letter with haste. I congratulate you on acquiring such an excellent fledgling whose loyalty will forever be unwavering, and more so for his addition to your own family line. With all my gratitude, Lord Sebastian Moran." Mycroft finished and looked directly at John as he dropped the letter on his desk.

"Well... That sounds agreeable enough..." John said softly, now very red and staring out the window.

"Agreeable indeed, _my little mender_. This begs a host of questions that need satisfaction, John." Mycroft stood and swept over to him, almost pressing their bodies together and forcing John's gaze to lock with his. He trembled slightly.

"I demanded answers from him in Paris however, he absolutely _refused_ until we were home. Claiming he did not want to repeat himself to you." Sherlock spat, pouting. "So brother, tell _your_ fledgling to tell us the truth, since my weight as _his husband_ meant nothing." Sherlock demanded, clearly sulking as he sank back on the couch.

"Sherlock do not be such a child, John was right to wait." He purred, softening his eyes slightly as he gazed down into John's face. John flushed slightly and found his breath hitched in his chest. "I am the authority in this coven and had he told you directly you might have flown off into a rage. Here we may all calmly deal with this together. So _little mender_, what history is there between you and Lord Sebastian Moran?" Mycroft demanded and stepped back from John. John felt himself compelled to tell the story and slowly moved over to sink down on the couch across from Sherlock. Mycroft sank down on the couch next to his brother, both of them across from John. They both leaned forward, mimicking each other by putting their hands together against their chins. Both of them burning their attention into John.

"When my uncle first discovered I lived he journeyed from the mortal city, Summer, that forms the port city for Solvanar, to our home to find me. He secured the right from my parents to take me back to Summer and introduce me to the matriarch of my Solvanar line as well as the history and power my birthright bestowed upon me. Within the first few months of arriving there a young vampire who was a hunter for his clan stumbled into the inn where we were staying on the verge of death. He was likely not going to survive the night. No one in the inn was willing to help him, though I did not know at the time that this was due to him being part of the large joint clan run by the Rowan Solvanar and containing members of the other fallen families. All I knew was a man was suffering and no one was helping him. It infuriated me." He sighed and looked down, flushing slightly. "I knew nothing of this history at the time and convinced the man secretly to come to my room. A foolish move for one so young as I was and a mortal no less, however I had recently begun my vampiric studies and considered myself adept to help him. Especially owing to the fact I had healed so many of your kin during my years with the Watson family."

"A mender to be sure." Mycroft purred.

"So you asked a sick vampire to your room..." Sherlock said condescendingly, he was clearly not enjoying the way Mycroft was giving John credit for stupidity.

"Yes. I surveyed him and concluded he was poisoned, likely by drinking of someone who had ingested one of any number of herbs that are harmless for mortals but can be fatal to vampires. I happened to have in my possession several ingredients I believed counteracted the poison effects of the family of herbs I believed he ingested so I prepared a potion and administered it to him." He looked embarrassed and flushed as both men raised an eyebrow. "I... I also allowed him to drink of me in order to regain some strength. Which was outlawed in the city of Summer. I cared for him for a full two days in secret, telling my uncle I was ill and did not wish to leave my room. Within those two days the hunter made a complete recovery. However during his time with me he told me of his family and their ancestral home a bit further north along the coast and informed me that many of his kin had fallen ill from similar symptoms. He asked and then pleaded with me for permission to recommend me to his patriarch so I could be sought to assist in healing their kin. At this point I knew I must defer to my uncle, who was quite angry upon discovery of what I had been doing. He refused my recommendation to the hunter's patriarch but the vampire was not to be stopped. He slipped out of the inn sometime the following day and disappeared." John sighed, crossing his hands in his lap and finally showing some nervousness as the two brothers continued to stare at him.

"So you have a history of healing vampires before you even truly began your studies." Mycroft said thoughtfully.

"Yes. I have been able to heal at least some wounds of your kind since I was a child. I first discovered it when I happened upon Anthea in our apple orchard when I was approximately five." John replied softly.

"How did you come to _Lord Moran's_ knowing?" Sherlock growled intently, his face dark.

"Through the hunter of course. A week later the hunter returned to the city with three guards and Lord Moran in tow. Lord Moran had himself seen the evidence of the hunter's story of his healing by looking to his blood memory. He had come to Summer straight away as he himself was quite ill. He beseeched me for my assistance, promising me all manner of rewards if I would accept his offer. He offered the type of rewards that made my young mind hazy with desire. However before satisfactory arrangements could be made between Sebastian and my uncle the full affliction took him and he became gravely ill. I worked diligently to cure him, despite my uncle's continued protests and spent the better part of a week caring for him and sharing my blood with him." Sherlock growled darkly and jumped up, moving to pace through the room.

"He has had your blood?" Sherlock demanded.

"Yes, but only a little at a time." John said earnestly.

"He has no hold over your husband, Sherlock." Mycroft said reassuringly but Sherlock continued to brood as he paced. Mycroft motioned for John to continue.

"He descended very close to the edge of death but I was able to save him, after which he swore an oath to me that I would always be protected by him. Once his full strength returned he spent lavish amounts of money in order to acquire a bulk of the ingredients necessary to cure his family and outfitted me with new clothing, a weapon, books, and other items I needed to continue in my studies. He worked with me for a month to perfect brewing of the potion and once we had a sufficient store built up he planned his return home. However before he could settle the potential of my accompanying him with my uncle, one of his guards arrived to inform him that several of his clansmen, including his daughter, had taken gravely ill." John stood and moved close to Sherlock only to be met with a growl. He looked hurt but walked back over, joining Mycroft as he motioned for him to take a seat next to him.

"Naturally he asked you to accompany him?" Mycroft asked softly, carding his hand through John's hair.

" He begged me, actually. Begged me to accompany him to assist his family and the earnest desire in his heart for his family's health was what spurned me to agree. My uncle however resolutely denied my involvement and I was forced to betray him in order to stay honest with myself." John looked down, a bit embarrassed to admit that he had betrayed the trust of his uncle for a man he barely knew. The brothers however looked even more intrigued. "We enacted a plan and he smuggled me out of the inn the following night. When we arrived at his ancestral home on the shores of the sea to the north we found that over half of his kinsmen were gravely ill." John's voice wavered and Sherlock found his anger fading slightly as John remembered such a dark time. "I studied what I could of the mortals they fed from while working to heal over twenty of Sebastian's vampire kin. I slept little and was on the edge of sickness myself many times, however I forced myself forward using the token of my youth to my own favor. It took the better part of two months before I was able to identify what was making Sebastian's kin sick. The mortals that live in the area close to their home and those they keep for feeding use two particular herbs in their cooking that are poison to vampires. So every time one of his kin drank from a mortal from the local area they were ingesting this poison slowly over time, however it is not able to be removed from a vampire's body without assistance from other substances. Once I had identified the herb in question Sebastian was able to convince the mortal servants they kept to stop using it and to ensure it did not come into their home. With an untainted food supply secured for his family Sebastian was able to finally find peace and within half a year his entire family was cured and healthier than before. While his family was finishing their recovery he informed me of a lot of the history of his family and the area surrounding where they live. He informed me that another smaller coven had inhabited the area with them for a hundred years, however they had all contracted some illness and died twenty years before I arrived at his home. He was convinced as am I, that his family would have followed the same path had I not intervened. It was then he began to offer me rewards for my assistance and began his campaign to ensure I did not leave their home." John sighed softly as Mycroft continued running his hands through John's hair to soothe him.

"So even as a child you worked with potions and poisons of our blood?" Mycroft asked softly, surprise and awe in his voice.

"Yes. It has been a passion since I can remember. " He mused softly, looking down. Sherlock turned to watch them, anger and jealousy still pooling in his chest.

"So your Uncle obviously found you." Sherlock said grumpily.

"Yes. Yes however he did not find me of his own intention. I later learned that the morning after my disappearance my uncle created a search party to try to find me. They were unsuccessful and unable to find a trail so they gave me up as kidnapped. A bounty was issued for Lord Moran as well as for my safe return. As the months drug on my uncle lost faith that I would be found and was attempting to resolve how to approach the matriarch, my grandmother, about the situation when he received a letter from Sebastian informing him what I had done. He beseeched my uncle for permission to claim me as his next fledgling, to raise and care for me. My uncle denied him, knowing that as an Oaken Solvanar our families were bitter enemies and having my blood in his line would complicate the tentative truce between the twelve families beyond the point of war. Unfortunately Sebastian was not pleased with that response as he had grown fond of me and wished to claim me as his mate. My uncle arrived a few weeks later to recover me but Sebastian drug his visit out in an attempt to keep me. It was only when I personally asked to be allowed to consider the decision myself until I came of age that he relented and let me free. I met Moriarty shortly after that and I believe Moriarty overheard part of my conversation with my grandmother where she explained I was a mender and informed me of bits of what my life would hold."

"You have met the matriarch of your clan?" Mycroft asked.

"Yes, she is my grandmother. She has met me twice so far."

"What did Moriarty do with the information he gleaned from that conversation?" Sherlock interjected.

"I believe he took it back to Sebastian and informed him that it was my destiny to eventually become a vampire. Moriarty wanted Sebastian's favor and apparently it was that information that garnered it. He was already of age and Sebastian took him as a fledgling. I returned home and shortly thereafter met Sherlock and began the history you have already seen and heard. Sebastian has tried several times to convince me to become his, going to great lengths to try and garner favor for the match from my family. My father and mother pushed for the union for a time however my uncle was so against it I was easily able to say no. However when the Solanar learned of my choice to become Sherlock's mate I lost the protection of my family and was left to the digression of my adoptive family. I was saved only by the Duke and what I now believe was Mycroft's advisement to him." Mycroft did not hide his smirk.

"He wishes you to be his and has for some time now." Mycroft said softly, leaning back and sighing. "I could not allow that to pass, knowing as I did that my brother believed you to be his mate." Mycroft tilted his head.

"He said in Paris that he would not destroy my happiness." John defended him, flushing slightly.

"Before he threatened me." Sherlock growled. "Just like you do brother." John looked to Sherlock and shivered slightly as he felt Sherlock's anger and jealousy beginning to pool in his own chest.

"Well I suppose there are several of us who have John's safety as our priority." Mycroft stood and paced towards the window, looking out over the weakly lit afternoon. "John what do you think of this truce?"

"I believe Sebastian is trying to repay me by protecting my family since I saved his. I believe he will honor it and he will do his best to control Moriarty."

"I quite agree. We shall accept this treaty." Sherlock growled and stood stalking from the room, leaving the two alone. Mycroft smiled as John stood and moved closer to him, a pained and worried look on his face. "He is worried for you, my little one."

"Yes, he fears losing me." John whispered, his eyes caught in Mycroft's gaze.

"I have missed you. I have grown far too attached to someone who is not mine." He smirked as John blushed.

"I missed you as well, however I was well attended to." He smiled. Mycroft leaned down and claimed his mouth in a powerful kiss, grinning as John whimpered softly.

"Renew your promise to me," He whispered, barely a breaths space between their mouths. "Promise me if anything should happen with Sherlock you will always come home to me." He demanded.

"Always." John promised as Mycroft kissed him again. Mycroft kissed him for a long moment before pulling back and waving that he should go. Enjoying the rumpled look of John's hair and clothes.

"We shall talk later, go attend to your overly emotional husband." He smirked as John simply turned and wandered dreamily out of the room.

Sherlock and John were not seen for three days following their return home. Mycroft was content to ignore their absence until he began to feel a strange sort of worried feeling filling his mind when he paused to think about his fledgling. He sent Anthea to them but she was turned away repeatedly.

"Sherlock? John?" Anthea's voice rang out. It had been four days since they had met with Mycroft.

"We are fine." John said in a shaking voice full of fear.

They were not fine. Two nights after returning to England Sherlock had informed John he could not sleep and settled himself onto the couch in their room. Then he'd gone still. John had tried everything he could think of to make Sherlock move or speak but nothing worked. Panic was overwhelming him and he was certain that he had done something wrong to upset Sherlock and now Sherlock was going to starve himself because of it. He tried splashing water on him, poking and prodding, trying to pull him off the couch, trying to kiss him and stroke him, nothing worked. When he tried drinking from Sherlock and received not a single motion from him, he resolved himself to try something more desperate. The most desperate thing he could think of, he would try to mind link with him. He knew as mates they shared a bond between their minds as well as their magic but Sherlock had not trained him on how to use it yet. John was desperately worried about Sherlock and ready to do whatever he could to ensure his mate was well so he resolved to search their mind link even though it was dangerous. He closed his eyes and focused until he felt Sherlock's aura where it contacted his own. He followed the path until he felt Sherlock's physical form and was able to find a link to his mind. As he focused he found himself inside a large multi-roomed space, Sherlock's mind palace. It was wide and echoing as he shouted for Sherlock. The force of his voice echoed and reverberated against the walls of the palace until he was forcibly removed from Sherlock's mind and his attention came crashing back down into his body. The force of which made him ache all over as if he had taken ill. He collapsed into a heap in the bed and barely had the strength to curl up under the blankets, pleading for Sherlock to do anything other than stay as still as a statue.

Anthea called on them again when another five days had passed, knocking and looking concerned when she received no answer. She gently opened the door and noted Sherlock on the couch. She stepped into the room tentatively and heard a small whimper from the bed. She tried to pull the blankets aside and when she did panic crossed every line of her face. She gently tried to get John out of the bed but he kept shying away from her until he was firmly in the middle of the bed. He sobbed muttered deliriously and she caught a bit of his words. Something about Sherlock being hurt. She hurried from the room, running as best she could for Mycroft's study. Mycroft was sitting at his desk looking over the short reply from Sebastian when Anthea burst into the room.

"Lord Mycroft," She said suddenly and his attention snapped up. "Has anyone informed our mender regarding Sherlock's dark moods?" There was panic in her eyes and Mycroft stood swiftly, stepping towards her.

"I should have expected Sherlock would have informed him, himself. Why?" He demanded darkly.

"He is very ill." She barely breathed, her own concern evident in her tone. "No one has seen either of them leave the room since they last were with you. They have not fed and John looks as if he has not moved from the bed in days. He is icy to the touch and paler than ever."

"And Sherlock?" He demanded even as he moved out of the study.

"On the couch in one of his brooding positions. He looked to have been there for some time. He responds to no one. I am afraid John is lost in between, he seems to have tried to mind link with Sherlock." She forced out in a breathless voice.

"Oh... Oh no." Mycroft's voice wavered as he broke out into a run towards their bedroom. "Sherlock has not trained him in his powers yet. That was a dangerous thing for him to try." He exclaimed as they reached the room. He threw the door open wide, eliciting a small whimper from somewhere within the blankets on the bed as the light barreled in the room. "Anthea take one of the mortals to my room and prepare her blood my usual way. Quickly." He commanded and she moved swiftly out of the room. "John?" He called softly, stepping towards the bed.

A small lump directly in the middle of the bed quivered as Mycroft spoke, he moved softly towards the bed not wanting to startle the ill fledgling curled under the blankets and muttering. Sherlock was lying completely naked, on the couch in the room with his fingers pressed together under his chin. His eyes were closed and his breath was very slow. Mycroft growled darkly as he looked Sherlock over, wondering how Sherlock could have forgotten to tell John about this. To warn the man who loved him about his ability to become comatose for an undetermined amount of time without responding to external stimuli. Mycroft gently worked through the tangle of blankets to find the shivering mender hidden within them. John was pale as stone, his skin almost blue. He shivered as Mycroft pulled him into his arms and cradled him against his chest. His mouth moving but no words coming out.

"Come on my little one," Mycroft said soothingly. "You are okay, you are with me." He promised as he carried John out of the room without bothering to close the door. His entire being focused on the shivering vampire in his arms.

"Sher... Sher...Lock." He forced out, through shivers.

"He is not hurt my little one. He is fine. Oh I am so very sorry, my John." He purred, cradling him gently as he moved quickly towards his room. Anthea was waiting for him when they arrived and she helped settled John down into Mycroft's bed. "Anthea, ensure Sherlock is covered and place some blood wine near him for when he finally comes out of this brooding of his. That will be enough to get him down to feed. John will remain with me until Sherlock has proven he deserves his husband again. Please bring him some clothing from his room and leave it outside the door."

"Yes, Lord Mycroft." Anthea said softly, her brow still furrowed with worry. She hurried from the room.

"Come on now my little one," Mycroft said tenderly, pulling John into his arms and offering him the blood in a glass.

"Sher..." John mumbled.

"Hush little one." Mycroft pressed gentle kisses to John's head, forehead, eyes, and temples. He slowly tilted the glass until some of the liquid slipped into John's mouth. The taste seem to revive him some and he took the glass in his shaking hand as he tried to drink it quickly. Mycroft restricted him from doing so, metering out the blood as John drank and some color returned to him. "Easy love, easy." He commanded, refilling the glass and giving it to John. Three glasses of blood later John seemed to stop shivering and the blue color had faded from his face. He looked up at Mycroft with fearful eyes, but Mycroft simply cupped his cheek.

"Sherlock will not move." He whimpered, panic in his voice.

"My little fledgling, my John..." Mycroft whispered softly, pressing kisses over his cheeks and forehead. "Sherlock is fine. It seems he did not warn you regarding his brooding behavior. My brother likes to solve puzzles and sometimes when he finds a puzzle he cannot easily solve he goes into his mind and tries to solve it there. He will not move or eat or respond to anything we say or do for quite some time. We must simply wait for him to come back to us."

"I tried... I tried everything." John said eagerly, feeling as if he failed.

"I know my little love." Mycroft tried to reassure him. John required gentleness and each time Mycroft provided it for him, Mycroft grew more surprised at the amount of tenderness he contained in his own heart. He cuddled John into him and held him close. "You even attempted to meet his mind, without first training to do so. That was very dangerous."

"I... I thought I had done something..." John whispered, looking down.

"What happened once you left me?"

"He yelled at me for awhile, told me I was wrong for keeping secrets from him. I told him that I had not wanted to, however I was instructed to by the matriarch of my clan. I am to withhold certain information until the moment comes that I must share it with you. I tried to explain to him that I did not want to withhold it from him..." He sighed and looked down. "He was very angry and I told him to use his anger. So for two days we made love in the most punishing way I have ever been touched. Then while we were lying there and I was drifting in and out of sleep he suddenly seemed inspired. He jumped up out of the bed and told me he had to think. He settled down on the couch and when I woke he refused to move."

"He is trying to plan for Moriarty's actions against the two of you." Mycroft sighed and smoothed John's hair back. "You must understand, Sherlock is not doing this to punish you little one. He is trying to save and protect you. He has not been diligent in your care, he has not taught you the ways of your powers or the ways of himself. I intend to punish him for that and see to it he does not do this to you again. However, if he sinks into one of these moods you may come to me for whatever you require." John sighed softly against him.

"He will be okay?"

"Yes, little one. He will be perfectly fine. The longest he has been in a dark mood has been ten days. I believe he will awaken in the next day or so and be confused as to where you are. Will you stay with me until that time?" Mycroft's mouth was on his instantly and John could find no will to say no.

Mycroft pushed John down on the bed, their mouths working furiously together. The blood lust came roaring into John's awareness as Mycroft's eager hands found their way over his naked form. Soft whimpers and moans broke free of John's control as Mycroft easily took dominance over him. He let his hands roam over John's body as he claimed his mouth in heated kisses, repaying every moment of distance he'd been made to suffer during his bonding period with Sherlock. John moaned and arched into his touch, desperate for more. Desperate to feel how their bond hummed in his body so very differently than his bond with Sherlock. He push his mouth back against his sire's, moaning his name as he worked. He needed this, he needed touch.

"I want to claim you again." Mycroft demanded, slipping his shirt off.

"Please... Please Mycroft." John groaned, his mind focused on every sensation Mycroft was giving him. Mycroft's hands paused, his fingers fluttering over John's erection. "OH!"

"Look at you," Mycroft groaned, now shifting out of his trousers. "So desperate for this... For me... Even though you and Sherlock have done little else aside from bond for months now." His tone was dark, demanding and dominating. A hint of jealousy rolling through his eyes and reverberating in John's body.

"This is different with you..." John protested but was cut off when Mycroft's mouth was on his again.

"Hush." He commanded and he kissed down John's body to take his erection in his mouth. John shouted and arched under his careful attention, his body trembling.

"Mycroft!" He hissed, his hands tentatively moving to touch Mycroft as he worked.

"Hands to your side, mender." Mycroft ordered and John easily complied. Mycroft took him deeply in his mouth, pressing his tongue against the underside of John's erection and sucking on him until he felt the moment John's body tried to give way to release. He stopped and John whimpered desperately. It sent a thrill through Mycroft. He kissed back up John's whimpering body until their erections slid together, moaning loudly as he felt John against his skin.

"Oh... Please, Mycroft!" John begged, clawing the bed.

"Touch me, John. _My John_." He ordered, pressing their mouths together as he rocked their hips together. Both of them shouting into the kiss. He kept rocking his hips forward at a slow pace until both of them trembled and shouted as they reached their orgasms. He kissed John over and over. "Sleep now, my little mender. Rest with me." He commanded and John's eyes fluttered closed. Mycroft's face darkened as he cleaned them up and settled into the bed next to John, his mind focused on how to best punish Sherlock for what he'd done. "_Soon brother, you will see your folly._"

* * *

Okay guys and gals here's the thing - the next few chapters are going to involve some major feels. But fear not I am a happy ending writer! So bear with my crazy school schedule and the feels and we'll all enjoy some good vampy times!

Comments always, always welcome!


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